


Cloud 9

by Birdy5678



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, Psychological Horror, This isn't going to end happily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:22:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 27,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Birdy5678/pseuds/Birdy5678
Summary: No, No this was so, so fucking wrong!But as I sit here, blood stained knife in hand, a corpse in the tub, and blood splattered upon my face.I can't help but smile.





	1. Awakened

The train screams down the tracks as I am forced to remember the stupid shit I used to do as a kid.

It wasn’t really the train’s fault that I’m stuck in this never-ending state of remembering, of feeling and hating myself over and over (God, I sound like Yuri) its more on my end. But I can’t help but shake the feeling that it was something else, something old and big and scary- it’s stupid, I know.  
When my head spins and all I can think about how everything got to this point, music is usually the thing I can rely on- its soothing, the distortions, the bass, a calm in a storm. But I don’t have that right now, I’m stuck here, with my thoughts and the hatred that consumes me for some reason or the other. 

The train gets closer and closer to its stop as I review the texts of a time happier, where we all stuck together like birds of a feather, where I used to bake and Sayori used to do whatever it was that Sayori did, and Monika would stare amused; and Yuri would read in the corner. 

Times were different back then, things were simpler. 

“Where do you want to meet?” Yuri had texted me at precisely 8:00.  
“Just meet me at the front i guess.” I texted back at 8:05

It is here that the concrete giants show- their bodies adorned with jewellery of light- I soon find myself pressed against the window, a certain child-like wonder that I’m not even sure was the same thing anymore; a pristine carbon copy, over takes me. 

It’s beautiful, I’ll admit, the kind of beauty that was hard to find, the kind of beauty that you’d need to see to understand, and only when you’ve been around the block of life that you’d be able to fully appreciate. 

The people around me fuse together, blending and becoming a blob of flesh and colour, I attempt to blot them out. 

The train screams, louder this time, and I resist the urge to scream along with it. 

Time is a fickle thing as Yuri once put it, and soon I’m finding myself pushing my way through a sea of colour and flesh, the confusion and distortion upon my face like that of a monkey. 

I take another look at my phone as I feel the vibration of another text, I don’t really need to look at the name because I already know who it is- Yuri, one of the few friends, if not the only, who stuck around.

“I am waiting by the door, to help you in your search, I have crafted a sign with your name on it.”  
I find her by the door, as per instruction, its been a while since I’ve seen her, but I know its her, she hasn’t changed a bit. Her long and purple hair, leaving me dazed and confused, her plump lips the colour of roses and her dreamy eyes a beautiful shade of purple. 

The floor soon becomes the most interesting thing in the subway as I make my way towards her.

We share a quick hug that feels like more like a formality than that of a reunion.

Yuri smiles a pure smile, one that pushes past her quiet ways and I smile back “Heya Yuri.” I say, my voice tired and groggy.

“Hello there Natsuki, I hope the trip here wasn’t too taxing.” It was, but I don’t say that, instead I reply with a quick “Oh, nah, it was fine. I hope I didn’t do wake you up.” I force my voice to sound happy, it needs to sound happy, it needs to be full of life. 

“No, no you didn’t, I had other…rather pressing matters to attend to.” I see a glint in her eyes that I can’t really understand but decide to let it go. “Gotcha.” And with that the conversation, a dull and quick thing, dies.

And then revives as we enter the car.

The city is big, packed, and beautiful all together, a perfect blend of concrete and lights and flesh. The streets are alive with the sound of cars and the stores alive with sound of people. We pass a couple of brand-name stores displaying extravagant dresses and jewellery. 

We talked about simple things along the way; what we were currently doing, music we were into, that sort of thing- but it felt wrong, like we should’ve been talking about something deeper, something that friends who knew each other, who trusted each other, should’ve been talking about.

The music blaring through the speakers of Yuri’s car was one of melancholy, it was sad in the sort of way death is sad, the way the leaves of trees danced signifying the end of the weekend, the end of good times and laughs.

Or maybe I was just looking to deep into it; the lyrics disproved that notion though.

“I then promptly told that man to leave the library- because, who does that?! Who just starts yelling for no rhyme or reason?!” She sighs and dig through her purse for the cigarette carton I know she owns, a mushed and torn thing that only contained two cancer sticks. 

“You want one?” I feel the itch. 

“Sure.” I reply, my focus filled on the traffic jammed road.  
We roll the windows down as we light our sticks, the smoke burning my lungs like hell as I take a puff.   
I needed it, I knew that much, the calm. 

Yuri’s apartment complex was big to say the very least, one of the many concrete giants that littered this city, it stood, a shining beacon of independency and what I could only assume to be happiness. 

The interior was colder than the exterior much to my surprise as we made our way up the winding stairs that seemed to stretch indefinitely.

“I…am not built for this.” I complained between heaves for breath “Yuri! Why the hell do you always pick places with so much stairs?!” I shout, but she knows I’m joking and in return smiles “Well, maybe you should’ve lain off the cupcakes.” Her voice, one of sing song echoes throughout the winding staircase, I laugh in response.

But the laugh feels forced, and I soon stop.

Very much like the apartment complex Yuri lived in, Yuri’s apartment was big, resembling that of a house, paintings adorn the walls- mostly modern art, a flurry of paint splatters upon a blank canvas- I didn’t get them, but I’m sure Yuri could write a book dripping with pretention on just one of these things. The paintings looked really lazy though. 

Plopping myself and my bags on the couch, my body gives way and soon I find myself laying there, eyes transfixed upon the white wall above. Yuri grabbed the remote and with a flick of her thumb, flips the television on.

“The serial killer, dubbed “The Eye” has been estimated to have taken the lives of over- “

The channel changes and some random soap commercial plays, the kind with some chick taking a shower, soap splattering on her body and running down her thin and slender form. The channel switches and we make our way to a streaming site. A plethora of movies flash before my eyes, and as someone who’s spent the past month sleeping in the back of cars, its fucking heaven.

My eyes light up as Yuri plops herself on the couch I’m on, we smile at each other as we find a movie to watch “Do you have any choices?” She asks, I shrug- it’s been a while since I’ve seen a movie, the only way I’ve managed this long is through copious amounts of Youtube. Though not necessarily a movie, the thought of being able to finally watch an anime is certainly a compelling thought. 

“Uhh, does this thing have animes?” I ask.  
“I’d like to believe so, but I haven’t checked.” She replies, the all-too-familiar flustered girl I’ve known for years at this point returning.  
We settle on some weird anime that’s basically gore porn that Yuri seems to enjoy; I don’t want to voice my complaints due to the way her face curls into a smile while watching- it’s nice, her face, the way she smiles, though rare- it feels like its earned and I can’t help but smile along; even as another zombie’s skull is smashed open.

After the first episode came to a rather gruesome conclusion, Yuri sat up “If you’ll allow me, I’ll go and concoct us a drink.” She smiled, and I felt butterflies.

 

Vodka mixed with soda water and splashed with lime. 

Plopping herself on the couch, out thighs touched, and a blush soon found itself creeping through our faces as I felt her hands brush against mine’s.

Our blushes grew a darker shade of red.

It felt rushed, as if this was a part of something scripted, something that had been practiced repeatedly. But I wasn’t complaining, why wasn’t I complaining? These feelings should’ve been gone by now. Her hand, cupping my face, gently rubbed circles into it as she raised my drink to my lips. Though weird, I sipped it longingly. 

The drink is bitter, but the soda water helps a small bit, the lime being that of an after taste- I sip more, my face contorting into one of disgust as I continue. I want to stop her, I want to tell her no, but she forces me to down the glass; her smile that of cruelty mixed with something else- something old and big and scary.

The glass drops to the carpeted floor, making a dull clink.

“Y-Yuri, what the fu- “My words, slurred and hazy, now interrupted by her lips pressing against mines, I heat up more than ever before.

My eyelids feel heavy.

 

The heaviest they’ve ever been.

 

What did she put in my drink?

 

I black out.  
And I wake up.

My eyes open, slowly at first, my surroundings are one of foreboding darkness as sweat rolls down my face in beads.

Where the hell am I?!

What the hell is going on?!

My form, too afraid to move, too afraid to speak, allows these questions to rattle in my head until it’s the only thing there; the only thing I can think of.  
The door leading to an escape from this blasted room is closed, I assume that it’s locked.

I hear voices from the outside, muffled, pained voices, gurgles, and the sharp swipe of a knife. 

I hear cackling, I have to admit that it’s a strangely beautiful kind of cackle- one that resembles bells in a summer day, perhaps it was only in my drugged state that I felt calm, at ease by the crackling.

With struggling breaths and fear consuming my thoughts, I rose from the cot that smelled faintly of Yuri’s scent. I struggle to speak in this state, the world wobbles

And spins

And swirls

I hate this.

My feet move on their own, as if controlled with strings, and soon I find myself pressed against a wall, using my hands to support my own weight.

I can’t see in this dark place.

I can’t see. 

 

Is this how I’m going to die? That thought scares me the most. I need to find Yuri, I need to get to her, she might know what’s going on, she may be able to elaborate as to what in the hell is going on- she knows.

She has to.

The door stands in front of me, leering down at me like a thing of hatred, and I’m terrified- more terrified than I’ve been in the longest of times. I force my feet to move as they sway sluggishly towards the door.

I gently, and fearfully open the door.

Yuri smiles, a smile of malice and insanity, blood splattered upon her face.

And like the train that screams along the train tracks

I scream.


	2. Fear and loathing In a City Uncaring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to establish what little of a chemistry both characters have and just how one sided it is- I hope I did well.

Chapter 2

Okay, so you’re at a bar-

Wait, never mind, that’s stupid.

Okay, so you’re in your friend’s giant apartment, you’ve had a crush on her for going on five years at this point- she’s also covered in blood, a knife in hand, and a manic smile plastered upon her flawless face. What do you do?

Well, you don’t know what to do, you just stand there, fear, confusion, and strangely lust overtaking you- with the first two being the loudest- the ones that take control over you the most until that’s all you can think about. 

Her smile drops almost immediately, its almost comical how fast it drops, and life returns to those beady and empty eyes- devoid of any form of mercy, no matter how small of inessential it may have seemed.

She doesn’t know what to do, and I don’t know what to do.

We stand there, her form barely covering that of the bleeding corpse behind her.

She suddenly snaps back into reality and forces out an all-too familiar bullshit “T-this isn’t what it looks like, I-I swear!” Her voice, silky and shaky, almost makes me want to believe here, to trust her and respond with and understanding “Oh, noted.” 

But I don’t, a stupidity reminiscent to that of those stupid teenagers in horror movies that go straight to DVD overtakes, and I respond with. 

“T-then what the hell is it?!” My voice, tires on gravel, shakes with frustration and fear.  
She sighs, and grabs hold of those iron apple thingies that are made for decoration.  
And lunges at me.  
.  
.  
.  
I wake up back on the bed, my hands cuffed to the bed stand and my mouth taped. 

My head booms like a beating drum and I feel the familiar sense of blood running down my forehead. My breath quickens and a fear I can’t describe over takes me.

It is dark and infinite and scary and eldritch as I struggle to breath.

Fear courses through my body as I am forced to remember things that I’ve fought to keep out, to stay locked in the deepest parts of my subconscious. 

I am in a dark place. 

And I am scared.

My vision blurs as I pull against my leather constraints. I make muffled screams as I attempt to try to escape, to do anything to help my predicament, to help in any sort of way. But I know, God do I know, that its not going to help.

My breathing, strained and fear filled, is loud in the empty and quiet room as tears form in the corners of my eyes as I know for a Goddamn fact that I am terrified- the most terrified I’ve been in the longest of times.

The blood is sticky and hot as it trails down my face and onto my pink lips.

I taste my blood, it’s disgusting.

I remember things I shouldn’t, the feeling of callused skin against my cheek, against my neck, against my back, against my everything. 

I am alone, and I am afraid.

Yuri must’ve heard my cries for help, and soon I quiet myself as I hear her footsteps down what I assume to be a hallway.  
She opens the door and my fear deepens. Her smile is weak, pathetic, and sympathy-stricken; and I don’t know why I feel my face heat up as a blush forms- I should be afraid of her, I know that, but I’m not, or if I am, its hidden well.

She gently peels off the tape, and I feel safe for the first time in the longest.

“I’m really sorry, the drink should’ve lasted just a little longer, I honestly don’t even know how it wore off that quick.” I keep my mouth shut, I haven’t forgotten yet, dad.  
She sits down on my bed as she tugs at her snug sweater. “I had to throw away your clothes, wouldn’t want those who may or may not look for you find anything that could lead to my capture, I apologize profusely for this.” I want to shout, to scream a flurry of cusses.

But I don’t.  
I stay quiet and I hate myself for doing so.

“B-but I gave you my sweater.” She smiles and against my will, I melt. 

The sweater she gave me does a good job at covering my naked and bony form, its comfortable, soft, and if it wasn’t for the situation I would’ve found myself snuggling into it.

“You…understand that I cannot let you go, right?” My stupidity kicks in and I begin to plead, beg, pray, and hope that mercy was still a thing that found itself implanted in the deepest reaches of her subconscious, that this psychopath would let me go.

“Please, I-I won’t tell anyone, Christ, I swear I won’t!” I meant it too.

Yuri smiles a smile that I want to slap off her face and kiss at the same time- it feels like that of a kick to my gut, a kick that never stops, only repeating and repeating until I hit my breaking point, to where it stops for a brief and merciful moment, before repeating and repeating once amore.

“I’m sorry, but you must understand my distrust and wariness. I cannot let you go, but I promise that I will make your stay here as comfortable as possible.” 

I hate myself for saying this, but I believed her.

“That being said.” She clears her throat and its beautiful yet disgusting all together “Is there anything I can get you?” I force myself to respond with nothing but a meagre “Water…please.” Yuri smiles and stands from her place situated upon the bed I am to stay in.

She leaves, and I am soon left with nothing but my thoughts. 

I hate my thoughts, I hate the things that course through my mind, I see his form, giant and dark; I see him staring down at me, his eyes glowing a dark red in the nothingness and abyss of this room.

Fear, something I’m all too familiar with, for the hundredth time that day, courses through my form. 

Yuri returns as fast as she left, a plastic cup of cold water in hand- she must still be wary of me. 

“So, I suppose you have questions.” I remain quiet, but I assume that my expression does the talking for me in this situation.  
Yuri sighs a weary sigh that upon closer inspection, is brimming with a sad sort of insanity, an insanity old and ever present, the worst kind of insanity. “I figured as much, I’ll attempt to respond to your questions as best I can, but I cannot tell you everything- I hope you can understand.” 

She smiles, and I melt once more.

I find my voice again, and I ask “Why?” it’s a simple and broad question until you elaborate upon it “Why did you kill that man, why did you knock me out- we could’ve talked about this!” Anger flares within; it’s a cautious anger, an anger that only those in captivity can and do take.

“I ‘knocked you out’” She does air quotes and I hate her for it “due to the fact that I couldn’t afford for another going to the police, even if a friend, and I am truly sorry for doing this to you.” Her voice seeps with sincerity that I am forced to take a metaphorical step back and almost reconsider my decision to hate her in the first place.

She paces around the room like some sort of sick messiah as she makes her way back to the first ‘why’ “That man, frankly, was not a good man; he was sick, perverted- evil.” She moves her hands around like that of a politician- I am mesmerised. 

“I kill only those who deserve it, those sick bastards who crawl around the streets like vermin, attacking, and taking those they wish like they have the right to!” Yuri’s voice rises and soon she is fuming, a certain fire blazes in her heart that I hadn’t thought existed. 

“Someone had to do it, and that individual is me.” 

I think it was here that I realized that I was in love with her, or maybe it was fear masked with love, maybe I was terrified of her- I wanted to hate her but this…

This vision of hers was one of a hero, a twisted villain who played the hero for the lack of a better term. 

“Do- do you think I’ll ever be able to stand and walk?” as I ask my next question, I find myself pulling at the leather straps of my captivity. 

Her eyes soften and soon she responds “I-I do, but there will need to be some ground rules of sorts.” 

“What kind of ground rules?” My voice shakes and trembles with fear.

“When I must attend to my…business, I shall allow you to be free from the confines of your bedroom, I promise you that much. But under no circumstances are you to leave this very apartment; I shudder to think of the things I would do to you if you were to cross me in such a way.” 

I shrink into the confines of the bed.

“You are not permitted to use technology besides that of the T. V’s, and you are only to watch streaming services.” She flashes another smile to keep me in check.  
I nod, not knowing any adequate response to the ground rules set in stone.

Her eyes flash with a seriousness I’m still attempting to adjust to as she looks me in my terrified and tear-streaked eyes “I am putting a lot of trust in you, Natsuki, I pray that you can live up to this by following these basic guidelines.” 

I nod, and cringe as I lie to her.

She smiles and says a curt “Good. Any more questions?”  
Not wanting to piss her off with the generic and tiring “When will you let me out?” I decide to say nothing.

Yuri notices the blood trickling down my face and a flash of guiltiness streaks across her face “My apologies for not cleaning that yet, I was busy disposing of our, guest.” I shudder.  
She leaves the room once more, before returning shortly after, Peroxide in one hand and cotton in the other. 

“Now, I need you to stay still, this may sting a little.” She flashes me another smile as withered butterflies dance in my stomach.

The peroxide burns like hell as I find myself gritting my teeth; pain courses through my body again and I let out a small whimper.

I catch the faintest trail of a smile upon Yuri’s face before it returns to mock-pity. “Ah! My apologies, I didn’t mean for it to hurt.” It feels like a punch to my already wounded gut.

The wound now finds itself clean, a bandage placed over the rather large gash on my forehead does a lousy job at attempting to cover up the abuse. Yuri stands from her place perched upon my bed and moves to unbutton my latches.

Hope, a long dead and long since forgotten hope arises within my soul as the latches burst free.

“I have more business to attend to, I won’t be long, I promise.” The glint that I cannot describe finds itself upon Yuri’s beautiful eyes as I sit up and begin to rub my sore wrists.

“Please, make yourself at home.” She opens the door that leads to my escape from the stuffy confines of my new room. I stand and follow her, my movements sluggish and my head spinning.

Yuri supports me as my hand briefly brushes against her boob.

Once again, the floor becomes the most interesting thing.

We make our way to her living room where she promptly plops me down the sofa, I can’t help but sniff her hair while she does this.

It smells of spring, of flowers and of love, it’s the most beautiful and disgusting thing I’ve smelt.  
Giving me a pat on my head and a loving smile that once again leaves knocked off my feat, she makes her way to the door.

And as she closes the door behind, malice drips from her voice like a water fall.

“And remember, do not cross me.” She smiles, and I find myself terrified once more.

I had to escape.

And I had to do it now, I noted.


	3. Pain, pure, and excruciating pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to add a little warning before this chapter begins- this chapter is not for the faint of heart.  
> If you are not comfortable with situations in which characters undergo intense physical pain and do not want to read it- that is completely understandable.

Chapter 3

Do you ever wake up and feel as though you’re trapped between a rock and a hard place?

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t?

Well, if you have then you know fully well how I’m feeling, the tension, the fear, the near constant state of paranoia that courses through you- its hell, a hell worse than the ones from those cartoons- worse than any lake of lava can muster.  
I can tell you about how long I waited, how sweat fell down my face in strips as I switched the television on.

But I won’t.

“Breaking news! The Eye- “

Staying true to my word, I switched to that streaming thing again, fear thumping in my body until its all I could think about, all I could register.

It seems that fear controlled me once more, like it had for years on end.

Raising the volume of the television and clicking on that one zombie anime me and Yuri had watched on what had once been a somewhat nice night- now reduced to whatever this was.

I had to admit, I did feel bad; I know I shouldn’t’ve, but I do. 

Yuri, a beautiful demon, a monster that I wouldn’t mind living with- the trust she’s put into me was exponential, it was nice in an odd sort of way- to be trusted that is. 

But I knew that I needed to get out of there, that I needed to tell them- whatever police force would listen- the horror that I’ve witnessed; the wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

I use the noise to my advantage as with difficulty I hop off the couch, I look at my surroundings- I stumble across the apartment, looking for any way- no matter how small they may seem. 

There is no fire escape.

The fall would kill me, and with no evident means of something to break my fall, I’m screwed.  
I could’ve attempted at getting bed sheets, but at the realization that there were only two sheets in the entire apartment, the thought quickly withered and died.

Yuri’s apartment was a very white thing, white walls, white vases, white couch- white everything.

I briefly wondered how she got the blood out.

I was only left with one method of escape- the door, a white thing leading to a world of dark and pain, my breaths were ragged as I sat back down.

I just had to wait a little longer, she had been gone soon enough, I hoped.

I sit for what feels like hours as I watch the anime I care little for- I needed something to help me get through. I sigh, standing up and attempting to find the liquor cabinet- this was becoming too much.

This fear.  
This hatred.  
This lust.

I missed her, Christ she’d only been gone for two hours, and I missed her. I briefly consider my sanity and a fear I can’t describe takes control over my original fear.

I had to escape, but I didn’t want to; I didn’t want to go back to what little I had, to sleeping in the back of a car, drifting without direction in a world uncaring- a world devoid of purpose and reason. 

But I had to, I had to escape, and I had to tell someone, I had to take down this villain posing as that of a monster.  
I find the liquor cabinet soon enough and I find myself taking a scotch from its place perched upon the cabinet.

I open the cap and raise it to my lips and I take a sip.

The drink is bitter, tinged with that of a sweet afterthought and soon I find myself taking more sips- I don’t finish it, but its enough to get me buzzed, to get me ready to escape.

I pace my way to my escape, cursing quietly in the room; fear and anxiety taking me repeatedly.

I raise my hands to my head and grown as I smell her scent upon the sweater she loaned me- it smells of freshly bought books and tea- it’s wonderful, it’s a scent one could find themselves lost in, a wonderful intermix of purity and a sense of safety. I love and hate it all together, I want to burn it and I want to treasure it. 

I…don’t want to leave.

My breaths, shaky and fearful, ashamed and frustrated, confused and angry, lustful and bashful- attempt at the near impossible task of calming down.

I reach for the door that leads to my escape.

The door creaks.

And I see it.

The glint in her eyes that I can’t describe.

I quickly close the do- 

The door slams open, smashing into my face and leaving blood seeping from my nose as fear quickly turns to terror.

“I TOLD YOU NOT TO CROSS ME!” She shouts, and I see it; the insanity that was once hidden under a guise of calm and collection.

I smash to the ground with a loud thump upon the white floor, Yuri stands over me, a bat in hand and anger flaring in her eyes, fuming out of her nose- I let her down, I betrayed her trust. 

“You had basic guidelines.” Her voice quavers with anger, wrath…hatred- I want to die, I deserve it.

She raises the bat high over her head.  
I want to scream, to shout, to cry and to kick and stomp and punch and bite, I want to fight.

But I don’t, I remain quiet, I cry, I sob, and I am terrified.

“Please, know that I only do this for your own good.” She smiles that smile again as it drips with insanity.

And lets the bat fall onto my quivering and fearful leg.

The

 

World

Turns

Red

With a sickening crunch and crack and snap.

I scream in pain as she raises it once more, her face that of a certain kind of stone- lifeless and empty of a soul.

And lets it fall once more.

Blood splatters upon the clean and white floor as my scream turns hoarse. Pain is now the only thing I have grown used to, the only thing I can understand, the only thing I can register. 

I grit my teeth as tears give way and I soon myself sobbing louder than I’m screaming.

I let her down, Goddamn it, maybe if I had just stayed in my place, maybe if I just kept my place, if I had stayed still and stayed quiet.

Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t ever have happened.

But it does. And it hurts.  
I don’t remember blacking out. 

But I do, and I wake up, the same pain coursing through my body as I let out a strangled scream upon the white tile of the room. Yuri sits on the counter, watching me with that cursed smile that never seems to wipe off her face.

“Why, I believe you owe me an apology.” Her voice drips with a hurt far surpassing anything I could be feeling.

Almost ferally, I sputter out a meek and weak “I-I…I-I’m sorry, I’m s-so sorry…” I sob louder than I have for the longest.  
She sighs and rubs her temples with hands far too pure, far too beautiful to be committing the thing it does. “I am sorry as well. But you must know that there are actions to your consequences.” She lifts my head to greet hers. 

“Let’s patch you up.” And with that, she lifts me up with strength I have not known she owns, bridal style. 

I am a princess and she is my knight, and even in my blood-drained state, I blush. 

What’s wrong with me?

She leads me to her bathroom and soon I find my battered form lying on the cool tile of the bathroom floor. “Please, sit up.” Her voice, like that of lavender, like that of silky softness- I feel safe as I sit upon the toilet for support.

Yuri really is beautiful, she smiles a weak smile and looks at my leg, I see what I assume to be a splash of content upon her face that only makes me shrink.

“This is going to hurt, but I promise that I won’t make it hurt as much.” I believe her, and in my delirium, I resort to love.

“Thank…Thank you.” I sputter out and I sob. She lifts my leg gently and pain screams through my form as tears fall in fat chunks onto the blood-stained bathroom floor. She grabs a roll of gauze and more peroxide as well as a couple of cotton. Seems as though that’s the only thing she had- or is the only thing of use here. 

I remain quiet as she gets to work, I can no longer differentiate between the pain that courses through my form and the pain that enters my body with the introduction of peroxide to the mixture.  
I am grateful for her help; she could’ve left me to bleed out- to die but didn’t- she cares about me.  
Yuri cares about me.  
I smile, it is a weak, and shaky, frail and terrified- but its still there, its still substantial. 

Yuri notices the smile plastered upon my face and blushes, smiling back “I hope I haven’t hurt you any further than I already have.” I shake my head as she finishes applying bandages to my busted and bleeding and mangled leg. 

“You…haven’t d-done anything bad, I’m just happy you’re here.” I smile weakly as I say the words I think she’d like- they feel hollow and empty. Her smile deepens as she quickly looks away and onto my leg; it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve seen. 

Her hand, bloodied and bruised from gripping upon the handle of the baseball bat, moves to cup my face, her head raises to look at my face. 

I smile, a forced and terrified smile.

Yuri smiles, a genuine and happy smile.

The world turns a shade of yellow as she leans closer, gently wiping away my tears.

Her skin feels callused yet oddly soft- a fusion of two different worlds. I see Him in the back, hidden behind the cover of a shower curtain.

Our lips touch for just a second.  
And then touch for more.

We kiss and its wonderful yet horrifying all together- butterflies dance and crash in my stomach as I force myself to return the kiss.  
My head is pushed further against the toilet as Yuri’s tongue forces me to open my mouth, our tongues battle for dominance.

I want to scream.

I want to push her off me and shout the worst words I can summon- I want to hate her and I want her to hate me. 

But I don’t.

Instead I melt into the kiss as I fight for dominance- it’s a losing battle. Our spit trades as our tongues give up their battle and begin to dance.

I am disgusted; disgusted with myself, disgusted with her, disgusted with everything.

But the high that comes with this kiss overpowers my disgust and we part briefly to catch our breath before colliding once amore. Against my frail will, I let out a moan, a moan of pleasure, a moan of torment- a moan that is not mine’s. 

I didn’t want this.

At one point I did, but now I don’t.

But I did want this.

I wanted it now.

This is so bloody confusing.

We kiss for what feels like hours, our moans rising and lowering in pitch.

We finally part and to my relief we don’t collide again. Yuri cups my face and smiles lovingly at me, I feel my will give way as I see Him in the background, growing ever so closer.

“I love you.” She whispers.

They fuse into one.

“I…I love you too.” It is then, and only then, that my tears are justified.


	4. Yes, This Fear's Gotta Hold on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with all abusive relationships, there is a rest period. This is their's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I suppose that this is the build up to the eventual smut.
> 
> I'm rather nervous when that comes, as I am not very experienced writing those types scenes. So if you have any tips on how to write NSFW- please do share in the comments below.

She’s brought another with her.  
I’ve learnt to stay in my room when she does, cover my ears when the screaming starts and hum to myself.

I’m learning, I pride myself on that, knowing that I can adapt, change and help my situation, however small it may seem- I hope to escape sooner or later.  
There are days when I’m ready, when I’m prepared to fight- to pick up a knife and deliver a quick and merciless death as crimson sprays upon these horrible white walls.

But then she walks into the room, that smile plastered over her face and I stop, I give up, I just cease.  
I hate myself for doing so.

The screaming stops soon enough, and I find myself waiting another hour for the clean-up duty.  
The hour soon comes to a closure, as signified by the knock on my door.

I’ve come to base time off of her; an hour ending with the gentle knock upon hard wood.  
I gently make my way off the bed, my bandaged leg making me unable to stand and unable to walk, so I crawl towards the door- it is a slow and painful one as my disfigured leg brushes against wood.  
I grit my teeth, the pain becoming more bearable.

I love her, Yuri that is, she really does care for my well-being, she knows what’s best for me- what type of food I should eat, the types of clothes I should wear; even making me read some of the books she reads.

I…love her, I must keep telling myself that- there’s no use in fighting, I repeat to myself.

I reach the door and stretch my arms out; I hate this part of my night, because I’m so bloody short, I must stand.  
Pain reignites in my body once more as I stand on my bad leg for but a second before dropping on the hard and unforgiving floor as I open the door.

Yuri gazes down at me like a benevolent God and I realize that this pain is worth it, that she’s worth it.

She smiles a smile that drips with malice- but I force myself to imagine that it’s a smile of compassion, one that cares for me; one that “loves” me.

Did she love me?

Her sweater, though wonderful as it was, has little speckles of what I assume to be blood splattered upon it-I feel queasy with the reminder of the acts she’s committed.  
“Would you like to know the man I snuffed out tonight?” Yuri asks as she picks me up like the wonderful and horrible knight she is.

I simply nod, not wanting to say anything that can piss her off; not wanting to get another glass cup smashed upon my head, or my face slapped- I have certainly learned a lot these few and long days.

“He was an evil man, one that plucked women and children a like from the streets; skinning them like cattle- I made sure to give him a death worse than anything he had done to those innocent souls.” Her voice quivers with anger and like every other time she speaks- I am mesmerised.

I can tell when she lies to herself, I’ve known her for that long- but I choose to believe what she says- I do believe what she says.

We make our way to the living room, and as usual, its impeccably clean- its almost supernatural just how clean this room is.

“Y-Yuri?” My voice quivers in the couch as we sit, she moves a little too quickly to look at me and I flinch in response, her eyes soften and a blush forms on her face “H-how do you…” I briefly reconsider my answer; she’s blushing now, which must mean she wants to hear something nice, something that’ll deepen the sea of red upon a white bedrock “…L-look so beautiful?” The words taste like charcoal in my mouth as I force them out.

Yuri blushes deeper and for a second, I almost relax. But then her eyes glint and I find myself fearful once more “What were you really going to ask?” I shake my head, afraid, her eyes grow angry “Tell me what you were going to ask.” Her grip upon me tightens as I give way, closing my eyes tight in the process.

“How do you get rid of the blood?” I ask, forcing it out, praying and begging to a God I now believe does not exist. Her eyes soften, and I am safe.

“Simple, before I go out on a ‘hunt’ I take precautions such as plastic wraps, I cover the apartment in such- it helps keep my living space clean.” I’m surprised and thankful that her response wasn’t one of hatred. But I still sense something underneath that wonderful and calm accent that soothes yet destroys my ears.

We watch a movie as we lay on the couch, embracing each other. I use her chest as a pillow, and I will admit, its certainly comfortable, and it is nice to feel her arms around me. I love it, and if it weren’t for the dull and ever-present pain coursing through my leg, I’d be in a heaven of my own making.

Judging by the way her hands shakes just a tad bit, the way it fidgets- I can tell that she needs another cancer stick.

I make a small sigh that she doesn’t pick up on.

I want one too, but I have no want for words.

Words, simple things, things that have hurt me over and over and over until all that’s left is this shell of a human being- a stuttering excuse- I am afraid of her and I have no want for words, this is hell.

We sit there for what feels like hours, staring at a screen that I don’t bother to attempt at making sense of- it’s all some big blur that continues, swirling until all that’s left is a meaningless blend of colours- devoid of any purpose of reason.

I am afraid, and I am a jewel in the arms of a dragon.

Time moves slowly, and I want to die.

The want for a cig grows to be too much for Yuri, and soon she pauses the movie and looks at me expectantly “Would you care to share a smoke?” I force a smile and nod, grateful for the calm that comes.

The apartment has a veranda, and soon we find ourselves staring at the distant, smog covered sky above. Yuri lays me down on a chair, plopping herself to the one next to it.  
I am tired, so Goddamned tired, so weak, so useless, so meaningless.

I am nothing, and she is everything.

Yuri pulls the pack out from the depths of her pocket as she stares at the sky above, holding my hand while she does this. 

I hear distant sirens, and for a brief second, I believe that they are for me, that they signify my escape from this blasted and blood-filled place. 

But I know, deep within, that no one is looking for me, that I am stuck here and stuck with her, the thought makes me happy and sick all together. Her grip fastened upon my hand tightens as she pulls a cig out. 

Igniting it, she takes a puff and hands it over to me, I take it and I take a puff of my own.

It hurts, but within time it dulls into the limitless and infinite pain that courses through me.

The sky, something I haven’t seen for the longest of times has no greetings for me; it only briefly acknowledges my existence before returning to whatever eldritch goal it once had, I am reminded that I am alone in a sea of flesh and concrete.

We sit there for what is actual hours, trading cigarettes until their death- to which we’d promptly light a new once and repeat the never-ending cycle; I could’ve almost forced myself to believe that I wasn’t afraid of her.

At what I assume to be the wee hours of the morning, Yuri breaks the silence “I used to be alone.” I stay silent, waiting for her to continue “I used to be alone, and it was one of the worst experiences I’ve felt.” Her eyes stare intently at the sky above “I attempted at maintain contact, believe me Natsuki, I truly did. I forced myself to, to keep talking to everyone.” I see the faintest glimmer and I know what she’s doing. “But, Sayori and Monika, they had different ideas- they wanted to see the world; and if that meant abandoning us- then so be it.” I see the tears break free.

“But now you’re here, and you’re mine, all mine- and I’ll never lose a friend of mine’s again.” The determination upon her face makes my soul wither into nothingness.  
Yuri smiles, and I force myself to smile as my very own set of tears well in my eyes.  
“I love you Natsuki.” She whispers in the nothingness.

I feel my tears break free as I sacrifice the last fragments of my dignity with my response

“I love you too Yuri.” 

I see her move from her seat and I cringe, I see her hands upon my shoulders and I cringe, I see her sit upon my lap and I cringe.

My hands tremble as they wrap around Yuri’s waist- Oh God, Oh Christ, please, no, no!

Her face moves closer, and my self-hatred deepens as mine’s moves closer.

And closer.

Until we collide.

My hand brushes against her arms and she gasps, before moaning into my lips. I am confused by this. 

Her hands move from their place upon my shoulders, moving lower.

And lower.

And rest upon my chest.

Now its my turn to gasp. 

Her hands trail upon my chest, I hate it, I hate her touches- I hate how they make me feel, how weak, how small, how…good they make me feel.  
I let out a moan as shame excretes from my nether region. I hate this.

I can feel her hands trailing my body.

Going lower

And lower

Until her hands brush against my pink and curly- 

No, no, I can’t do this!

“P-please! Please don’t do it” I let out a whimper as I thank a God I don’t believe in when her face softens, and she smiles a sad and impatient smile that sinks my heart below sea level.  
“Is it something that I did?” Yuri asks, I feel worse.

“N-no, its not.” I force myself to maintain a more serious face, a face that any good significant other would pull; one that radiates of warmth and kindness- a rock that she could lean on for support “You didn’t do anything wrong.” I lie. “I’m just not ready for…this, sex, I guess.” My breathes are uncommon, erratic, fearful. I’m praying that the words coming out of my mouth are ones she’s willing to hear and willing to understand.

She doesn’t get off me, instead she makes her weight more unbearable as pain shoots through my leg. I don’t tell her to get off. 

The pain is hot, red, and searing, but I force myself through it. I force myself to feel butterflies, to love it- I hate it. I hate it so fucking much!

Yuri rests her head on my chest as I tense up, her tears are wet against the sweater she gave me to cover my form.

“I love you Natsuki.” Yuri says as she grips upon my back, raking her long finger nails upon it, tearing the fabric further with each swipe.

“I love you so much.” Her rakings become more feral, angrier, more restless.

I cringe as I feel her nails upon my back, drawing blood with more and more scratching.

“I love you too, Yuri.” Pain, a feeling I have grown used to, adapted to, learned to make better.

Pain, a thing I have grown to hate, a hate that burns far and deep, a pain that is infinite.

Pain courses through my body.


	5. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monika reflects upon her past ,and the decisions that have led to her present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look at that, a new narrative in the story.

Chapter 5

Drip  
Drop  
Drip  
Drop

The pattern of rain is endless, universal, wrapping around the world and enveloping the it in hues of dull greys and blacks. 

Monika finds herself in bed; stumped, tired, frustrated and annoyed.

She’d put up a valiant effort, she truly did.

She watched her tongue, her steps, her action- she’d watched just about everything about herself around Sayori. But it soon became too much to bear, too cumbersome; a dam on the very verge of collapsing, sending a tidal wave of emotions, feelings, words. A tidal wave six years in the making.

The fight has started over a simple and unimportant disagreement between a ship that one party enjoyed while the other didn’t.

It began playfully, the two sparring and laughing at each other’s come-backs; then gradually devolved into a screaming match as the two fought for dominance and saying any hurtful things that came to mind- no matter how personal, how sharp, how deep it cut- was just a means to an end.  
Monika was the one to arise victorious, with the reward being that of an open door, swaying in the breeze; signifying Sayori’s exit. But it didn’t feel like a reward, it felt like a loss, a loss that was far worse than the loss of any nagging or annoying habits could make up for.

She’d won the battle but lost the war.

Monika stared at the ceiling above, her mind clouded with a plethora of “What ifs”. The ceiling was a simple thing- a grey that seemingly radiated heat in the summer days but offered no such warmth in the winter nights.

The two had been happy for time- six years, in fact. They acted as each other’s walls to lean on; Monika would complain about her cases to Sayori, and Sayori would cry in Monika’s lap when the going went tough, when existing became too difficult a burden- a cross upon a dying martyr’s back.

The wine nestled by the warmth in her hand was a cold promise of the buzz to come, with the sweeping intoxication that only led to a restless and tiresome night following that buzz.  
Papers lay scattered upon the floor, marked with the feverish scribblings of a red pen; their only purpose seemingly to mock her and her achievements to the investigation.

It seemed as though with each step they took; The Eye took two more ahead.

Rolling off the mess of a bed she called her own and onto the mess of the floor, Monika tried to make sense of an increasingly difficult case that twisted and turned, contorting and distorting itself until all that was left was a jumbled excuse that barely held any merit.

The first recorded murder had surfaced during the first months of 2021, a body; mutilated beyond recognition, a photo discarded next to it; and an eye painted with the victim’s blood upon a concrete wall.  
It was like a wildfire soon after, murders surfaced as quickly as they were discovered- the method of the killings were sporadic; one spell, the victim would be skinned- left to rot in the hot and sweltering and boiling summer day; the next they would simply be shot, a photo being the only thing that connected it to the others; not the most inventive way to kill an individual, Monika noted. 

It was later discovered that the victims were originally led to a different location before meeting their untimely demise- the location being unknown/ 

Now, one may be curious as to what the photos had contained- numbers, numbers that when arranged together led to different locations upon the city; churches, school yards, etc.

Officials are yet to discover the purpose that these locations serve towards the murders.

Crumpling papers containing a press release, Monika sighed as her stare returned to that of the grey abyss above her.

She was tired, her body brought to its limits and then surpassing those limits.

She’d promised Sayori that she wouldn’t work this much.

The rain has screeched louder than the two had ever known before as Monika lay situated upon her desk furiously typing as though her very well being depended upon it, and perhaps it did.

The bags that soon found themselves situated upon her face were deep and dark as a abyss, a stark contrast to that of her usual porcelain like skin; anger flared in Monika’s heart, burning and consuming everything within the general vicinity.

The fires of hatred were quelled with the entrance of a very groggy and very and very tired Sayori. Wearing polka dotted pyjama pants and an oversized sweater, and her usual dishevelled hair resembling that of a jungle; she plopped herself upon her significant other’s lap, blocking the view of the computer. 

Her eyes, the colour of blue and a hopeful summer sky soon found itself to be the only thing keeping Monika’s frail and weak sanity from shattering into pieces upon the carpeted floor beneath and into the abyss of insanity.

Sayori’s arms wrapped around Monika’s neck as she smiled a tied but genuine smile.

“Heyy love, whatcha doin’ up so late?” Though she already knew the answer to that question, Sayori learnt that after years of experience in the field- she’d concluded that she really did enjoy the sound her Monika’s voice.

Monika forced a weak and trembling smile as she wrapped her arms around the waist of her loved one “Uh, just…just trying to finish this thing for work, babe.” She buried her face in the sweater, inhaling the wonderful scent it seemingly emitted from its woolly form.

If she were to be honest with herself, she’d hate to admit but the work was getting to her, it was consuming her little by little; drowning her in a sea of doubt and anger.  
Her spirit was all but crushed.

“What’s wrong?” Sayori’s voice changed from one of playful interrogation to one of genuine worry, one that understood just what she’d gone through, and knew the right words to say.

Monika had always loved her for that; when Sayori was genuine, worried, happy, or some amalgamation of those three, mountains could move, Gods could be overthrown, death was no longer a worry.

She never did answer that question.

Monika had sobbed for the first time in two years, her face buried in the wool, her tears dampening the material.

Sayori said nothing, only stroking Monika’s hair as her grip upon Monika tightened. 

Monika had never felt safer in her life.

When the sobbing subsided and the only thing sounding throughout the house was the drums of rain upon zinc. Sayori lifted her head, gently pressing her lips upon her counterpart’s.

The two shared a kiss, a kiss that radiated with warmth, one that said, “Everything was going to be all right.” Warmth radiated throughout the icy home as Sayori led her back to bed.  
The two returned to welcoming arms of slumber hand in hand, their faces touching, and smiles plastered upon their faces.

True, Monika had to eventually return to the work to next day; but she no longer felt on edge, she felt at ease, ready to take on the struggles of this case once more- ready for whatever lie ahead of her.

Monika was ready, as ready as could be.

Except

She no longer was.

Thirteen times she’d try to reach Sayori via phone, thirteen times she had failed in those attempts. 

Thirteen voicemails, none opened.

Anger flares in her depths once more ‘Why the fuck do I have to do anything about it? She’s the one who’s supposed to apologize to me!’ Monika regretted thinking those thoughts. She hated thinking that way; but when anger consumed her, and things were out of her control, Monika often found herself thinking things she’d prefer to not to. 

The rain finds itself to be the only constant thing in her life, the only thing that she can hold onto, the only thing substantial. 

The drunken stupor of restlessness was a lustful thought as Monika found herself entranced upon the ceiling once more and will continue to be entranced by the abyss of grey; a grey resembling that of the downpour outside, the downpour that never let up, that only continued until all things had been washed away and forgotten- thrown away to the rivers of time, endless and infinite.

She briefly wondered things got so convoluted, how she had lost contact to those she loved, and how she would return to them- back to the way things were.

But she didn’t have the drive to do so, to establish a connection that within only a couple of months would falter and wither away into nothingness.

And she didn’t want to have to deal with the struggles that people brought once more- maybe in high school she would’ve, but not now, things had gone too far; much too many things have been changed.

Was it the start of their relationship that acted as the catalyst for everything to come crumbling down? 

In hindsight, she should’ve noticed it sooner, the cracks in the foundation of the group- they had all been so close in the past, working together, supporting one another in their times of need.

But it all came crashing down when Sayori had first slipped the poem into Monika’s jacket.

It was a simple thing, rushed and crumpled, blue ink on pink paper.

 

I look at her

How she smiles, like a sunny day

Driving the rainclouds away

I am happy, so, so happy that she’s happy.

I lift my hands to the sky as I laugh.

The world is brighter now that she’s here.

Monika had understood the poems meaning, she’d understood what Sayori had been trying to say.  
And the two left the club hand in hand, uncomfortably happy, and fearfully optimistic. 

Perhaps that was her first mistake, accepting Sayori’s love, indulging herself in it. 

The cracks surfaced soon after; the glares from those who didn’t understand, from those who wished to see their relationship combust into a valley of orange flame as the two made their way to class- leaving Sayori a crying mess when she received a note saying the slurs too explicit for the contents of the page. 

Monika had become increasingly defensive of her other, her missing piece that she’d finally found.

But the stares, the whispers, the notes; they became too much.

And soon the two had found themselves distancing away from those, no matter how close they were, no matter how much they trusted them.

Yuri and Natsuki were among those, a necessary causality in a war the couple had found themselves losing.

But, perhaps losing them wasn’t as necessary as she’d once thought.

Anger flared in her chest once more as she rose the lukewarm glass to her lips, taking a sip.

Then a gulp.

The wine burned her throat, but she no longer cared for the pain, it was a constant.

This pain, this pain that didn’t hurt her in the physical sense.

This pain that hurt her in the emotional sense.

This pain that was never going away.  
Monika stood up, making her way towards the paper-filled desk, pushing it all off and placing a blank page in front of her. Monika did something she’d never thought she’d get to do again.

She wrote a poem.

It was a mess, words on paper that formed no real story, no narrative; just fragments of thought and feelings, all plastered upon a page until the spreading ink created a dark puddle, a dark blue abyss, as opposed to the grey abyss above.

Monika wrote and wrote, until her feelings expressed themselves as tears upon white paper.

Monika sobbed for the first time in two years situated upon a wooden chair, scattered papers about,

When she’d been expunged of her last tear, she grabbed the pen once more.

And continued to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this, the NSFW chapter may happen next, or maybe after the next.
> 
> Who knows.


	6. Abyss.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get heated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'd like to preface this chapter with a disclaimer.
> 
> This is the NSFW chapter.
> 
> Its most likely going to suck as this is my first attempt.
> 
> So, my apologies for that.

Chapter 6 

I wake up to hands pressed against my chest as my breathing becomes strangled and a mortal fear consumes my body as I struggle to breath.

I can’t move, and I am helpless; a white dot in a canvas of black.

The shadows that surround my form take shape, contorting their eldritch forms until I see a hand,

And an eye

And a torso

And teeth, white in the ever-expanding abyss of nothingness.

There’s three of them, three bodies, three rows of shining white teeth that contort into a grin.

The world spins

And swirls

And spins and swirls.  
Until I can no longer differentiate between the spinning and the swirling.

I stand in an ever-expanding abyss, an abyss of everything and nothing all together.

I stand in an abyss of my fears and doubts.

And the abyss stands in me.

 

I wake up to the distant but hopeful smell of eggs sizzling in a fryer, the smell is intoxicating as a single thought comes to mind, flooding out everything else.

Food!

Rubbing the bruise situated upon my eye and reminding myself that Yuri loves me, and that she cares for my well-being. I crawl out of the bed and open the door, the pain has grown more bearable; I think I’m healing, I hope I’m healing.

The kitchen is big, white, and filled to the brim with scattered utensils. Flour lay scattered, spilling its white contents upon the whiter counter, the smell of muffins attempts their best efforts at overwhelming my senses.

“Did I wake you?” Her voice, smooth as a wet stone in a pond of blue, has a darker tint that I can’t wrap my head around; her voice shakes, and I understand the adrenaline flowing through her veins.  
“No, its fine.” I force a jaded and exhausted smile as I wipe my sweat-filled forehead. 

God, its been forever since I’ve eaten.

I’ve lost track of time; I don’t know if its been a week since this shit storm began, or a month, even a year.  
I hope against hope itself that someone is looking for me.

My leg is healing, I can limp along hallways without the dull pain overtaking me, yet I still prefer to crawl- after all, I am but a pet. I sit on the stool and she looks over at me, giving a quick peck on the lips that revives the withered butterflies that still dance in my stomach.

I…really do love her, I really do love her, I love her, and I want to kill her.

And I will, I think, I hope.

I see a knife on the counter, and I feel the urge, it’s a simple urge, as old as time itself; the urge to slice her skin like butter, staining these fucking white walls until its all that’s there.  
In the background, some anime plays, it seems to be old, and I pay no mind to it.

The knife, tinged with a blue hue and flaunting a crimson hilt, looks so inviting, a wonderful creation of craftsmanship and dedication- a testament to a world uncaring, a giant machine that we are all cogs in.

Christ, I really am becoming Yuri.

I want the knife, I need the knife.

I don’t take it though, and I don’t set myself free.

Moving her way towards the counter and taking out a plate etched with my name, she places it in front of me.  
Its pink, but I still like it.

The eggs now have my attention, and drool forms in my mouth as my stomach rumbles, begging to be given food, and to stop digesting itself.  
I wolf it down the second eggs touch the plate.

I don’t care about its odd taste.

Or just how juicy it is.

I’m hungry, and I finish it quickly.

“Have you found a way to escape yet?” If only I could reach for the knife, ignore the screaming in the bowels of my head- but I don’t. “N-no.” I lie. I think she notices the lie, like a rot in a garden, but if she has; she refuses to comment upon it.

“I bought you some clothing to wear, I realize that your current clothing arrangements are…less than optimal at the moment.” I want to shake my head, to bed to not be given different clothes; I want to relish in the soft ecstasy of the sweaters as they cover my bare and frail form to the world outside- a world uncaring and unforgiving, a world of black and death.

I need to leave this place.

But I don’t, and I only nod, hating myself as the seconds pass. 

I look at her expectantly as I force a smile, she laughs- it is cold, dark, and bitter, and I want her to choke on it- and picks me up; I feel safe and so scared at the same time.

Yuri takes me to the living room as I curl up in her arms- its all for show, but it seems to do the trick- and plops me down on one of the many white couches that adorn this seemingly never-ending apartment. 

The anime is your typical magical girl; run of the mill with an idiotic main character and her friends. 

After safely securing my place upon the leather, Yuri makes her way to another part of the ever-expanding apartment in search of the bags.

I know that I can grab a weapon now, that I can find some item in here that can knock her out, and I can keep attacking, slamming the item upon her face until all that’s left is that of a bloody pulp of gore.

But I don’t, and my heart makes a pained cry when I think about it.

Yuri returns to the room, two bags in hand, a pleased look plastered upon her face that disgusts me. I stare at the bags, I can’t help but feel just a pang of happiness; she got me something- she cares about what I want.

But its not what I want, I didn’t ask for this, this change- after everything, now that I’m finally used to how she treats me, how she shows her love to me; change has to come and ruin everything.

Why is she being so nice to me?

She puts the bag in front of me and I can’t help but feel grateful for the gift, the change.

“I got your sizes from the clothes that I disposed of, I hope you don’t mind that breach of privacy.” What privacy? I only smile and shake my head, I have no want for words.

I open the bag and look inside.

The contents of the bag are that of a grey skirt and a pink shirt with a rabbit drawn of the breast pocket. It looks nice, to be sure, but this seems as though it was taken straight from my past- this doesn’t look like the type of clothes I’d wear.

I smile, and I open my mouth, going over my options as to what to say and the consequences that would follow. “Its great…thank you.” I force a grin as she chuckles “But you hate it, don’t you?” Yuri says, and I feel as if my heart skips a beat.

“N-no! I like it, I really do!” Fear rises within my throat as I grab something, anything, that can be used to attack if need be.  
“Its not a good thing to lie, you know.” Her smile drips with venom, and I can’t help but get annoyed with this situation; that annoyance quickly being drowned by the fear of the consequences that accompany this. 

I see Him in the background as abyss cakes the walls.

Abyss spreads, for a stupid reason.

Anger flares within as my grip finds that of the metallic decoration. 

Yuri moves closer, and closer, until she’s all I can see, all I can smell, and all that I hear.

I love her.

It is a sick, demented, disgusting, and horrible type of love.

But I love her.

And perhaps that’s why I let the decoration fall to the floor instead of slamming it against her skull. I love and fear her. 

Yuri smiles, and I feel it again- the lust, this primal feeling that drives me like a dog to a treat. Her hands move towards mine’s, wrapping them in a hold that it can’t get out of.

And I don’t want them to, either.

Perhaps it’s the clarity that comes with being in love, or the clarity that comes with fear disguised as love- but I look at Yuri and I can’t help but admire her form, how wonderful her posture is, how her plump lips crease into a smile, her eyes- the colour of cosmos far from the eyes of those unworthy. 

The world darkens, expunged of light as abyss consumes our surroundings.

It’s just me and her, and the things that inhabit the hell-scape of black we find ourselves in.

We kiss, and abyss leaks into my soul as I kiss back.

Her hands roam my form, and my hands follow suit.

Her hands move up my shirt, and I am not afraid.

I am not afraid as they explore my naked and frail body.

Her fingers, laced with abyss, work wonders as feelings I can’t describe rush over me.

They are primal feelings, and they are wonderful. 

This is moving too fast.

My hands, confused and new to this, follow as they snake under her sweater, and feel the lacy lingerie as they do their best to cover what lies underneath.

My body is not mine’s at this moment, and I feel as though I am floating, drifting away from my form as I watch in a silent scream for me to stop what I’m doing.

I gasp as her fingers slide against my nipple, playfully rubbing against them. 

A moan escapes my lips and I feel fear rise within me as I drift further and further away, and abyss consumes me.

Who am I becoming?

What am I becoming? 

My fingers have a mind of their own, or perhaps a puppet master guiding their strings, and soon they push away the fabric of her bra and squeeze what’s under- earning a gasp of her own.

I am afraid as her fingers snake their way downwards, lifting my sweater and exposing my petite form to the world watching.

I am starved.

I am bruised.

And in her eyes, I am perfect.

 

She

Pushes me

Onto 

The leather

Beneath.  
Her breaths are hot and heavy as fear courses through my body.

Her fingers trace my skin, leaving Goosebumps in its wake.

Sweat falls in strips upon my face as my eyes scan the abyss I am slowly becoming consumed by. 

Her fingers find their place, rubbing, teasing, and circling between my legs as I squirm.

The feelings rise in the temperature, coursing through my body as I see my legs as they are consumed by the ever-hungry abyss.

I feel 

Myself

Sink.

Her fingers slip in, slowly pump inwards and outwards as my body lets out a gasp.

I see the things rise from the abyss once more.

Their forms sticky, wet, and dripping with the abyss of creation.

Their eyes open.

God, there’s so many eyes.

So many fucking eyes.

Watching

Sneering

Their pearls, widening into smiles, stare at me and I am afraid.

My body moans and Yuri’s head moves its way to my clit.

And I feel it.

Something wet and sticky as abyss consumes my legs, and then my torso.

The abyss is hot and sticky as it consumes more and more of me, the real me.  
Fear, fear is all I know.

I am alone.

And I feel the knot forming as my body moans and moans.

And with the release flooding me, consuming me, the abyss completes its goal.

I am consumed. 

My body is no longer mine’s.

My body is hers.


	7. In-between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fear, a thing I have grown used to, dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sorry about the short break taken from Cloud 9, the story is hopefully making its way to the second act.

Chapter 7

I’m supposed to be asleep when she does her work.

This is the fourth one this week.

It’s a simple way she starts, really, all it takes is a club, people, and a copious amount of drinks.

The club must be filled to the brim, the music blasting at top volume as dancer’s dance and dance, free and happy to go about their lives. If the location finds itself to be just right, Yuri would scan the area, her eyes searching and searching until it found its mark upon her next target. 

She moves quickly, using her body to its fullest potential before swooping in and taking the poor idiot before her even knew what hit him. He’d be past the limit at this point, stammering and struggling for words; Yuri would be quick to Wisk him off with the shallow promise of sex.

It’s the taking part that’s difficult for her.

Tonight, was no different, except, maybe it was.

I can still feel it, her fingers upon my skin, how they traced through- examining and understanding every crack, every crevice, every hidden secret; wounds that wouldn’t sit right, cuts that failed to heal upon my body. I can feel her within, a part of me now and forever, tainting my white canvas black. Sweat falls in strips as my eyes remain transfixed upon the wall above- what made me so daring (foolish)? What allowed me to give her the remnants of my innocence, to give myself to her? These thought race through me like a train, screaming down its tracks, thoughts of love, thoughts of hatred, thoughts of regret; the thoughts are equal in volume, but one stands among them all- just a little higher.

Love, or the disgusting, mutilated, and dying remnants of love.

I look at my skin, a porcelain white- gone was its original tan. 

I had always been proud of that tan, it had made me different- the only tan of a group of white. I had always been given shit on it by the others- that being Sayori and Monika- but I never really cared for what they said; or perhaps I did? Memory fails me.

I explore the depths of my mind once more, peeling past the threshold of the subconscious, searching for the catalyst in this act, searching for what gave me that courage, what allowed me to give consent.

Consent; a simple yes, but with added variables, a not-so-simple yes, what made me say that yes? What made me take it? What made the world spin and swirl?

What did she put in the eggs? I know that sounds stupid, but I trace my memory and that’s all that comes up.

I only remember eating the eggs.

How odd they tasted.

How juicy they really were.

Did I even eat eggs? Or did I make up the image of eggs in order to rationalize something darker?

What did I eat?

I sigh, if it was too much before, its beyond that at this point.

I felt her too, I felt the cuts that made her wince and gasp, red cracks upon a white ground, perhaps in another time, a time where things were simpler- more concrete- I would’ve been terrified by the blood I felt trickle down her skin; now they only serve as a reminder of the life I live. I saw her eyes as they creased with pleasure as I repaid her, I felt my fingers in a realm of nothingness; dark and infinite.

I am afraid, and I cannot breathe.

Perhaps that’s why I needed the sounds of shattering glass, of muffled screams that sounded so…feminine, the whip of callused skin against flesh.

Perhaps I needed Yuri to fail.

I lift myself up, silently and cautiously as I snake my way through my room, searching for something that can be used in self-defence. Fear throbs- no, not fear, adrenaline courses through my form as I find it; the knife, a thing I had nicked from a time where time itself mattered. 

It’s a simple thing of steel, no hues, no tints- but it’ll get the job done.

I don’t know why I’m doing this.

Love? 

Hatred?

But I’m doing it.

I can hear his grunts of anger as another whip cackles through the apartment, reverberating upon the walls as the apartment screams in agony. 

This is my home, and I’m not going to let someone just tamper with it to their heart’s content.

He’s big, and terrifying, and I can’t help but feel the pangs of a fear that once coursed through me like wildfire. I’m used to this, and I can channel it- I hope.

And then I see her, and the thought of escape rising within the bowels of my mind is drowned out with worry. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing is ragged, and I hope, I pray, that she’s okay.

 

I can escape, I can leave this place in the dirt, I can laugh as I see a human being other than the one who forces me to hate them. 

But I raise the knife, and like a prisoner upon death row, I accept my fate- one sealed the moment I took that ticket, the moment I stared at the concrete giants with jewellery with something akin to child-like awe, the moment I saw her in all her glory for the first time in two years; my fate had been sealed, and I’ve accepted this.

I raise the knife and cringe as my bandaged foot creaks upon the wood of the floor.

He stops.

And lets Yuri fall to the floor beneath.

Thinking becomes a privilege as I race towards him.

The knife’s falling until it hits its mark with a wet squish.

Pain courses through his body, and its exhilarating. 

The knife, now lodged into his back as he sways, knocking me off my feet in the process. His eyes flare with anger, and the courage, the anger, falters.

And fear rises once more, and I find myself regretting my decision to fight, to give into a bloodlust I never thought I had. But fear is still absent, and for that I am grateful.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” His voice booms, like tires upon a gravel path way, his breath reeks of smoke and the familiar scent of vodka, and soon the anger finds itself building within once more as I get into my stance, as I prepare myself for the worse that’s yet to come.

And it does, I find my view transfixed to the floor as the whip of callused skin upon flesh sounds once amore- he slapped me, and I find myself on the ground.  
But I am faster, I rise quickly, my grip finding its place upon the hilt again as with a sickening slice, the knife finds its way out of his back.

I try my best to ignore the shaking of my hands. 

“Come on, you fucker.” I mumble, my eyes ready and my breathing ragged, the shaking in my legs only disproving my readiness.

He is a bull, and I am his hunter.

He charges towards me, a puddle of blood wetting his clothes as I charge forward, holding the knife in front of me- I am possessed by a power unknown.

The knife slices in as I fall with his weight upon me. His hands find their way upon my throat as I push the knife in deeper, blood splattering upon ye the sweater that does a lousy job to cover up my battered and naked form underneath.

 

The knife does its work, and he soon finds himself slouched upon a wall, his breathing strangled as he attempts to rise.  
Blood pools down my forehead, but I did it, and I feel horrible for doing so.

I feel horrible for watching his final descent into the darkness of death.

But I smile, a frail and weak smile, a smile that I don’t understand- a smile that I can’t understand.

But I’m still smiling.

My attention returns to Yuri.

And my smile falters.

She’s lying on the floor, her face beaten and bloody, a canvas of purples, and yellows, and red, and its horrifyingly wonderful, a perfect cacophony of imperfection, a painting of suffering and the edges of death.

I can walk out, I can escape, I can tell the world of the sins Yuri has committed- but I know that I can’t do that; even if I wanted to, I can’t. I’m bound to this apartment, and this apartment is bound to me.

The night sky screams, and I along with it.

 

I scream, a loud and hoarse thing, I scream until my eyes open and I sit up upon the lumpy surface of my bed, my room still surrounding me; I scream until I can no longer scream, until that scream is replaced with silence; a silence deep and thoughtless, ever-expanding, ever-present, a silence I despise yet love all together. 

The man, dead, stares at me- except he doesn’t, a mere dream, a figment of an imagination gone awry, a dead thing, not too scary.

My breaths are ragged, a thing not-too like that of fear courses through me, but I’m not even sure if its fear at this point or something normal, something I am forced to live with, forced to accept and understand and adapt to. 

I pride myself on that fact, the fact that I can adapt; I’m no longer sure if I am adapting, or if I’m simply dissimilating and dissolving into nothing, a shell without any hope of being filled, a certain nothingness.

I hear the clamps of feet upon a marble white floor, and I feel the pangs of safety sound within my heart, tears fall in fat chunks as I sob quietly, waiting for her, my beacon of hope in a dead and decaying forest; the love of my life, the one I cherish, the one I love and the one I’d give my life to.

I feel it once more, hatred, unadulterated hatred. 

I want to scream, I want to tear my eyes out, and I want to be free, I need to be free. But I know deep down that these thoughts are mere fantasies, a fantasy unobtainable and un fathomable.

She opens the door, her hair hugging her back, her sweater, stained with the rivers of crimson, her eyes; an insanity masked with empathy, she moves over to me, and I collapse into her sweater.

It’s a soft and comfy thing.

He no longer hovers over her, gone, and a nothingness taking its place. I can’t help but smile as I sob, as tears stain her already stained sweater. As the crimsons rubs off her and onto my skin, tainting it red over its porcelain.

I don’t know if its been a day, a week, a month, or even a year; and frankly I don’t care anymore. I love her, and I want to be with her, and I want to kill her, and I want to devour her.

I feel safe, safer than I’ve ever felt, and she feels safe, I know she does, the way she smiles as she strokes my hair, the way she sniffs my hair and sighs lovingly. She feels safe, safer than she’s ever felt with my form within her bloodied and mutilated hands, their knuckles still oozing that familiar crimson.

I look into her purple eyes as they look down upon me, a God, drunk off power, a high that its grown used to; a God that once struck fear within, now replaced with love, an admiration of sorts.

She feels safe as her hands swarm me.

But perhaps she shouldn’t.


	8. Chapter 8

You are given two questions.

Ask away.


	9. Investigation #456

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Monika raises the coffee cup to her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to thank you guys for the 100+ kudos! it truly does mean a lot to me that people enjoy this weird story.
> 
> Secondly, apologies for the skip in chapters...I can't seem to type chapter 8. Weird.
> 
> Final thing, How the heck do you post pictures? I tried looking at the guide, but my plebeian mind can't wrap around it.

Chapter 9

The rain finds itself to be that of a sharp contrast to the flashing hues of both reds and blues as Monika makes her way towards the scene of the crime. It was a ramshackle excuse of a warehouse, a thing with a rusted zinc roof, littered with holes from bullets and the wears and tears of nature attempting at reclamation.

A large vine of unknown origins wrapped itself like a snake, spreading itself upon the crumbling child of metal; sinking its teeth into the depths of its form, ready to bring it down within the coming days.

Tired and angry, Monika wrapped her form in the warm comfort of the parka, and then proceeded to grab her coffee. An officer stared at her, his features the same as hers, his eyes dull and lifeless; a cog piece in a machine, old and ever-spinning. His uniform, lay muddied and covered in the thick residue she could only assume to be blood. The officer merely acknowledged her presence before returning to the abyss of his mind, an abyss infinite and consuming; an abyss that completed its goal.

Her parka, a green and puffy thing with a brown collar of fur upon its hood, lay dampened and stuck upon her back, her brown hair sticking to her skin; her grip tightening upon the coffee cup, the only source of warmth in a city as cold as space. 

Resting between her arms is that of a casefile; she had no reason to bring it with her, she’d memorized everything it had to offer at this point- but what if she’d forgotten something? What if the tiniest detail provided insight- a possible end to a case that found itself growing increasingly confusing, muddled, and swirled into insanity itself.

The entrance was swarmed with another multitude of cars; their flashing lights illuminating the grey and dull world around them if only for a moment. 

She’d still not answered her texts. 

Raising her badge to greet the face of the detective, - a fresh faced kid who had no real rhyme or reason to be selected for a job of this magnitude, a job horrifying and gritty- a face splattered with an intermix of both perspiration and the barrage of rain meeting the cold floor beneath. 

He was certainly not prepared for this job.

Raising his badge to greet her face, the boy introduced himself as Franklin; his voice shaking with the adrenaline that accompanied the first case. Monika briefly remembered her first time; it wasn’t a case as big as this monstrosity; but it was a murder. 

“All right, what’ve you got for me, boy-detective?” The flash of annoyance upon his face making the insult more better, causing the briefest hint of a smile curling upon the rough surface of her countenance. “T-the victim seems to be in his late 20s, blonde hair, no facial hair of any sorts, his clothes seemed to have been burned in a pile. His body seems as though it was eviscerated. All personal records such as ID seems to have been consumed by flame” His voice was weak, high-pitched, and innocent, reminding her of a time long gone and long dead; it sickened her.

Making her way towards the entrance of the building, Monika sighed as she made a mental note to add yet another victim to the already gargantuan file she stuck between her arms. 

Upon the opening of the door, the foul odour she’d grown used to wafted out from the dark and cavernous interior and into her nostrils; cementing its place upon her nose, a smell that would not escape her for a multitude of weeks.   
Digging her hand into the depths of her coat’s pocket (a surprisingly deep pocket) its grip soon found itself upon the flashlight- a small and metallic thing. Pulling it out and shining a bright blue beam of light, she was greeted with a wall- slick with crimson.

Perhaps in another time she’d be terrified of its presence.

But truth be told, she’d seen enough blood to grow repellent to its nature, a mere obstruction, a distraction that kept her mind scrambled and unable to finish a job long-overdue. 

It was as if the warehouse sucked out the distant noises of cars, sirens, and footsteps. The interior found itself to be devoid of noise.

No matter how small or inconsequential that noise may have seemed.

The detective behind her shook with a fear she’d grown used to seeing, a very same fear that once consumed, coursed through her every fibre until it was all she’d known and all that she could process. 

The beam of light soon found itself revealing more.

Little by little.

A hand, bloodied and bruised.

A leg, sliced open like that of an orange, its contents spilling to the cold ground.

A torso, its porcelain form lacerated open, the organs within splattered upon the wall, some missing from their original place upon the body. 

The detective gagged behind her, the fear soon finding itself too much to bear, much like that of the bowels sloshing inside his stomach

A head, its eyes removed and its mouth open in a never-ending scream.

And an eye painted above with the victim’s blood.

They certainly had a flair for the dramatics.

Franklin soon lost his lunch. 

Taking a deep breath and covering her nose with a handkerchief, Monika made her way closer towards the eviscerated and disembowelled remnants of the man’s form; as per usual, the photo was there. A blank thing with nothing more than the number 2 inscribed upon its white form. 

“All right Franklin, we need to search this place top to bottom, if you find anything; give a yell.” Coughing and gagging, her rose; frantically searching his coat’s pocket for the flashlight, upon finding it; he disappeared into the abyss surrounding them.

Monika briefly wondered how long it would take him to get the stench of rot, a stench that only death could provide, off his mind.

 

During what limited time the two managed to grasp, Sayori and Monika explored the woods engulfing the school’s compounds, surrounding it like that of some unseen deity- in the background and unnoticed- that day, Sayori’s smile quivered and the dull look in her eyes had given away the entirety of the story even before she recounted it.

“So, love, how was your day?” Monika had once asked, a creeping fear that her suspicions were correct.   
Sayori’s smile, a weak and cowering thing- sunshine obscured by the darkness of a raincloud- opened as she chose her words cautiously and meticulously, for fear of giving it away. 

“G-great! Yea-yeah, it was so much fun!” Even Natsuki would be able to see through this lie.

With a sigh, Monika looked over at her other, summoning her best smile; a smile that casted forth an aura of warmth and security that she only hoped Sayori would lean upon.  
“How was your day?” she’d ask again.

Sayori only smiled as she opened.

One of the girls- a lanky and tall thing with blond hair that curled and freckled plastered upon her face- pushed her to the floor; an anger unprecedented to anything the two had ever faced before, her features contorting into ones of anger and disgust. Her mouth unlatching, words catching within the wind and sound carrying. 

Her hands quivered as they wrapped around her counterpart’s, her smile following much the same pattern; her eyes a dam upon the verge of flooding. 

“Don’t listen to them, it doesn’t matter- they don’t matter, I’m here and that’s all that matters!” Monika has once said, an uncertainty creeping upon her voice with each syllable muttered and each sentence finished. 

She’d still managed to retain that uncertainty, carrying it with her like that of a cross.

The forest around them was covered in shades of oranges and yellows with the oncoming fall and the subsequent winter to follow, piles upon piles of dead leaves crunched upon their boots as the two continued deeper and deeper in the oranges and yellows; deeper and deeper into a place far away from the reaches of eyes or the sounds emitting from their mouths, or the thoughts that sounded in their dense heads. 

“Yeah…I know, but, well; sometimes its hard to keep it up, to keep pushing through.” Her voice, downcast and jaded, had broken Monika’s voice into a thousand million pieces and only broke further when her blue eyes- deep as the ocean- looked up her, tears hanging on the edge. 

Sayori fell into her hoodie soon after; the dam had now broken and the flood racing through its cracks with each sob taken.   
They had spent an hour in each other’s arms, even when Sayori’s sobs subsided into nothing more that dry heaves, Monika still sat there- arms around her, attempting at what little she knew about comfort. 

Perhaps it was only then, in the blanket of twilight, that Monika realized that she was truly in love with her. 

When all the tears had been shed and the heaving subsided; the sky soon found itself under a new blanket- one of abyss dotted with the celestial freckles of stars off in the distance, covered by the veil of smog and pollution. 

Gone were the beautiful shades of oranges and reds, casting the world in warm hues, while still retaining the chill that came. 

Now, all that remained was abyss, an abyss ever-encompassing, and ever-consuming; and abyss that stretched indefinitely and infinitely- an abyss that had achieved its goal time and time again.

Sayori shivered, her grip upon Monika’s arm tightening as the two forced their way through the abyss’ thick hull and into its cold and unfathomable innards. Using their phones as flashlights, the two walked in uncomfortable silence, their eyes scanning, searching for anything that could act as some help in their search.

It was too dark, a blanket of black covering them until all that remained was that black, a black neither could see through. 

The light that their phones provided was menial at best, a shot in the dark that did no good to illuminate the darkness surrounding them, engulfing them.

Fear soon found itself replacing discomfort.

When the realization had settled in that they were lost, Monika sighed, attempting to settle her panicked nerves; and opted to just call Yuri- who’d hopefully have a car on hand. 

The phone rang a total of three times before Yuri picked it up; her voice fatigued with the grogginess that accompanied consciousness “Yes?” She asked, her voice muffled “Who is that?” someone with a surprisingly small voice asked “O-oh, is this a bad time?” Monika asked, feeling the warmth course through her face. 

With a deep sigh, Yuri ignored the frustrated protests of her partner on the other end “No, no its now- how may I assist you today; or well, tonight?” her voice had dripped with venom. An awkwardness Monika had never experienced until that day consumed her. “Y-yeah, uh, we’re kind of…lost in the woods behind school- could you come help us out? You know, bring your car, honk a little?” Another sigh “Okay, okay- I’ll be down there in sixteen minutes.” And with a click, the call ended.

“What did she say?” Sayori asked, a smile plastered upon her face, a smile shrouded by the abyss. Monika couldn’t help the laugh edging its way upon her subconscious; her laughter was loud, booming, reverberating throughout the trees; Sayori, confused, cocked her head a little, before the sight of her other laughing caused her to laugh in turn as well. 

The silence that followed the blanket of darkness was momentarily uplifted, broken by the sounds of their laughter.

The way Sayori laughed was like music to her ears, a song sweet and lovely, with only the briefest of intermissions by the snort she’d sometimes make; now tainted by the lens of nostalgia. Monika loved her in that moment.

Monika had always loved her in every moment.

The missed calls had now reached thirty.

“I think I’ve got something!” The awkward voice of Franklin broke the trance of thought that came with nostalgia. 

In his gloved hands was that of the bloody and tattered remnants of a poem, the handwriting illegible and incomprehensible; a mixture of a classic handwriting and something older; eldritch in appearance and form; yet still elegant, still brimming with an oddly familiar sophistication.

She’d sworn she’d see that handwriting; that writing style. 

Monika prayed that she was wrong, that whatever thoughts ebbed their way into her head were fantasies, made up and fake, a result of an intermix of paranoia and stupidity. 

“I think we’ve got ourselves a lead.” 

Monika frowned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to end this chapter on bad news; but due to some complications, there's a high probability that I may have to put this fanfic on hiatus; by no means does this mean that I am abandoning this story as well as the other projects I'm working on- but I may have to leave for an extended amount of time.


	10. The Red.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki wonders who really is losing their sanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking this chapter down, I realized that it wasn't my strongest chapter in terms of quality and grammar; so I decided to take another look at it, fix it up a little and add a few new things.

Chapter 10- The Red

Crumbs scatter upon the marble of the table- specks of black against a while backdrop- as I raise the light brown of the tea to my lips.  
The tea set is beautiful, a spiral of blues upon an even whiter ceramic, with the questions of cracks adding life to the rims of the cup.

A metal ball- decoration- sits idly in the middle of it all.

She stares at me with her eyes and I loosen my grip around the ceramic.

I’ve seen her face so many times that I am now able to memorize it; the fainted hints of freckles placed with precision care- a masterpiece of complete and utter artistry. The way her purple-pink eyes crease with each laugh reverberating throughout the white of the plane.  
How her hands, battered and bruised from her work wrap around the pink of the teacup.

The butter knife clutched in my hand twirls as I run my bandaged finger over its course, jagged, and sharpened edge.

Yuri raises the pink cup to her lips, sipping the brown tea within as those eyes scan over me, a lust that sickens me glazing over her purples.

My grip suddenly tightens.

We chat about simple things, an attempt to fill the weight accompanying silence.

A weight that never seems to let up.

Now that I think of it...

The apartment is always unnaturally quiet. Seemingly muting the honks and screams of the cars outside, one could drop a pencil from across the apartment and you could hear it.

I wonder if noise ever leaves this apartment.

It would make sense as to why we’ve received no noise complaints.

I stand upon a minefield, the dangers of stepping upon an explosive, detonating and ending my own life finds itself a very real possibility.  
My voice shakes, quivers as I search for the right words, that one sentence, determining life or death. Yuri stares at me, her calluses hands cupping her soft and perfect face, devoid of any imperfections no matter how small or inconsequential they may seem; It disgusts me.

“Y-yuri?” I force our, my words and their consequences replaying over and over within the bowels of my mind, a never-ending film of pain and anguish.

A pain I cannot understand, even to this present day.

Yuri smiles a smile that melts me, burns me, kills me, and opens her mouth, lips curling and contorting to make space for an oncoming sentence- sentence that determines my safety.

She is perfect, and in a way, this makes her imperfect.

“Yes, love?” She asks, and I feel my will seep out from within.  
But I just remain courageous, I must fight back against the holes within my battered and broken ship, sinking within a sea of abyss, consuming. “I-I want to leave.” I whisper, and she hears.

“I’m sorry my love, but I cannot let you do that.” Her smile is forced, a dam cracking, withstanding the pressures of water- insanity- teetering upon the edge of collapsing.

“I can’t lose another, please, not again.” Tears well within her eyes, I can’t help but believe that they’re forced. I feel horrible.

“P-please.” My attempts are weak at best, she knows this, and I hate her for it.

“I need you stay with me, reside within the comforts provided by my home. I would be horribly disappointed, hurt even, if you were to leave.” My heart shatters.

But I must push forth, and I hate myself for doing so.

“Stay with me.” She whispers into my ear, her hands trailing throughout the knotted and cheek mess of tangled vines, conjoining and forming into my hair.

I feel that anger again.

Eldritch in appearance.

“I don’t want to stay here...”

The words surge throughout my form, exiting only as weak and sputtering mumbled- pathetic like myself.

Yuri is taken aback.

I feel a sense of accomplishment wash over me.

She moves towards me, wrapping her slender arms around me. I find my will stagger.

I love her.

Her grip tightens upon my shoulder, fear attempts to take me but fails in its siege; anger arises dominant, victorious. “Please.” She hisses, her grip stinging white strands of pain as her nails- long and sharp- dig her within.

I can’t take this.

I can’t do this again.

I can’t tell you what surged within me, spewing outwards like bile from the lips of a drunken teen’s throat.

I can’t tell you what made me slap her disgustingly callused hands away from the malnourished form of mine’s (or her’s), their purple tips glinting beautifully in the light of day.

And I can’t tell you what happened when the world turned red.

The red was almost as infinite as the abyss, it’s swirling was certainly the same, but not as infinite; it had an ending, a finite length. It felt familiar, like the smile of an old friend. A certain safety emanating from the warms of the red pools that seemingly littered this red hellish landscape.

I can’t tell you when the world turned red, when the white walls were stained with crimson, but I can tell you what happened after.

My hands shook.

It’s grip upon the metal faltering.

Wait.

What?

I drop

 

Yuri holds her face.

The silence in the air is thicker than the blood flowing down her face.

Fear takes its hold on me.

The red pulsates with an unfamiliar glow, now left from my form and now finds itself within her form. Overpowering the abyss, she lets the blood flowing down her face converge with The Red, her purple eyes now shaded with a crimson glow. Her hand, a wonderful intermingling of red and white, an angel stained with blood. 

“Y-Yuri” 

The walls darken to a shade of grey.

Had it always been that shade of grey?

No, no, the walls are white, the walls are white.

They must be white.

White. 

“Y-Yuri…”

The walls of the apartment seem to grow closer, caving. 

She says nothing, The Red consuming her form like tendrils. She bends down to grab hold of the metallic ball, I back up, my bandaged feet backing up against the blackened and ashy wall. It feels moist, a stench of flesh hung within the air, a stark contrast to the Jasmine that once permeated within the confines of this once white prison. 

This isn’t the Abyss, its something else, the blackened walls lack the texture that accompanied the Abyss- its still grounded in a reality, whichever reality that may be. 

I, like many, many times before; search for a word to say- something, anything- the words hang upon my tongue, teetering on the edge; soon to collapse and join a type of nothingness. One lacking in texture or girth or anything that makes the Abyss.

This isn’t the Abyss; the Abyss is hiding.

“I-I’m…Sor-“  
“You’re not sorry, you don’t mean the words you say- “She smiles, licking the blood trickling down her face “Stop lying.” Tears well in her eyes, brimming with insanity. Fear thumps in my heart as I search for a way out, a hope that goes against any form reason finds itself placed upon my heart. Or the remnants of that heart. My first balls into a tight choke. There is no escape, no other way out that through the monster’s jagged and elongated form. 

Yet, I feel as though something’s changed, the tears welling within her eyes seem something akin to myself. The way they hang in chunk, wobbling in instability, its familiar. I feel as though I have an advantage now; like the tides have shifted and I don’t understand how.

“I’M SICK OF BEING LED ON!” she shouts, her callused hands slamming against her forehead, blood splatters against the walls, only blending within its grey form. The Red’s tendrils borrow their way into her head as her veins pulsate with an unearthly red glow.

I’m starting to wonder who’s really losing their sanity.

Tears falls in fat chunks down her face, and a sob escapes her throat. I feel the pangs of something from a bygone era- something lost in my now long and curly hair, something lost with the healings of my legs. 

I may be a pet, but I feel no love for my master.

Except I do, somewhere, underneath the thorny remains of a dying bush; I feel it. I cannot describe it, maybe at one point I would’ve had the ability left within me, before this nightmare began; perhaps I’d be able to write a poem on it. If I delve deep enough, I can feel as though I was a writer once.

Either way, Yuri’s still staring at me, eyes bloodshot as she refuses to lift the ball above her head, striking a heavy blow and killing me. She’s hesitating. I smile, a smile that trembles with an eldritch fear, one deeply rooted within my subconscious- one that I will live with. 

But I need to get out of her first. 

“Yuri, please, I’m so sorry, so, so sorry.” She drops to her knees, I kneel “If only I had known.” The words sicken me as I force them out from my lips. I raise her bloodied face to mine, and I see myself within her- scared, tired, confused, angry, and completely and utterly in love. 

She really did consume me.

Our lips connect, and I feel a part of myself Yuri claimed seep back within me. I feel the flowers of love bloom, malnourished, but still alive. Still clinging to something, no matter how small it is.  
I love her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've loved writing this story, its the only thing I've written that's gotten this far. I'm so close to the ending, and I'm hoping that I'll reach it soon. So be prepared I guess, as the upcoming chapters ar hopefully leading towards that ending I've been planning for.


	11. In the depths of a Monster's mouth, what do you do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What miracle is this? This giant tree.  
> It stands ten thousand feet high  
> But doesn't reach the ground. Still it stands.  
> Its roots must hold the sky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're now on the final stretch, the last few chapters before I can switch my laptop off and pray that I did something right.
> 
> I hope that you guys enjoy.

Chapter 11

My arms wrap around her form, cradling her as she buries her face within the wool of my sweater. We’ve been like this for hours, my love (hatred) for her only deepening with each passing second.

The grey walls sneer at me.

I run my fingers through her curling purple hair, my grip tightening and releasing upon its soft surface. I stare at the wood of the door, so close yet so far; taunting me, allowing an anger I’ve yet to understand fester within.

Her grip upon the broken hilt of the pink tainted knife only tightens, as though sensing my wishes of escapement and reminding me that I am not free, at the very least not yet.

Raising her porcelain face to mine’s, she rubs the sleep out of the blood-stained surface of her face, I cup its smooth surface and lean in, conjoining once amore. Her lips taste like something akin to charcoal, staining my mouth with its terrible taste. 

She looks at me, her eyes a never-ending abyss of purple, one of hope, and the could grip of insanity blanketed by the false promise of sanity. 

“I’d die for you, and only you.” She whispers.  
“I know.” I reply

The living room we inhabit is small, four walls boxed together with the cover of a ceiling provided cover from the harsh outside. A popcorn bowl lays strewn, forgotten about after binging that one anime. The ending was trash. 

The time is 7:00 A.M., I switch the television to the news.

The news anchor’s face is one of exhaustion, her hair an entanglement that seemingly juts out in random directions. She tells of atrocities, pain and suffering, death and despair; and of the person behind it all.

“The forty-third victim of the eye’s identity has of yet not been disclosed…” Her breaths are calculated in their timing, as though this was practiced repeatedly “, now, a word from the lead investigator, known for her work on the Halsey files, the Kuaven killings, and the Eye murder spree, detective Monika joins us today, answering our questions…”

 

I freeze.

Monika?  
The touches of Abyss return, or were they always there?

Monika?

Why is this happening so soon, this is supposed to happen later, isn’t it?

Monika?

Detective?

Its tendrils snake the grey floor.

I feel the pangs of nostalgia, of a time long gone and dead. Fragments of memory obscured by static- an infinite and screaming white noise, grounding itself within whatever sanity still left within.

Perhaps that’s when I see it, within this haze of fear, I see green eyes, a flash, a glimpse. The red slithers out of the depths of the couch- its red mist illuminating the nothingness.

The abyss clenches its grip upon the purple of her hair.

Or do I?

The Red raises its talons, the Abyss’s teeth shine white as three of its dripping soldiers arise from the black, their white eyes glowing.

Time, what is time?

Seconds on a clock, ticking by in rapid succession, progressing and never stopping; never rewinding, what is time? 

I feel her arms wrap around my form, her eyes soft, her porcelain skin stained with purple splotches, much like her hair, much like myself. 

The Abyss retreats,  
The Red stays.

Monika, who is Monika?

The name tastes familiar, like a food you could’ve sworn you’ve tasted before; having no recollection of even eating it in the first place.

The Red wraps its tendrils upon my leg, its bloodied bandages long removed.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

Who said that?

The walls open.

I see.

I see a world with a red sun, beyond the precipices of sanity, the barrier long broken and long forgotten. A stark contrast to this red sun, the black sand reeks of a smell indescribable and unimaginable, something akin to rot, but not quite. There are things in the sky, their forms varying in sizes, their mouths grinning with insanity.

I see a world with a red sun.

And I don’t know why.

The eggs sizzle over the heat of the stove, my hands, small and weak as they are handle the iron grip. The heat screams as it sears the white, popping the yellow pulp within, its liquid sloshing in pan. I blink, shaking my head profusely, and effort to regain a concentration I had lost long ago.

Yuri wraps her arms around me “Oh no, you popped it.” I sigh and attempt at salvaging the remnants of our breakfast. We eat in silence, enjoying the company of one another underneath the sun’s light. She stares at me and I resist the urge to walk away, her eyes glint with a mischievousness unlike her, then again all of this was unlike her. “What day is today?” I ask, scooping another piece of the blob into my mouth “I don’t know.” She shrugs. I return to forcing down the sticky and disgusting blob down my throat, a hint of iron glazes over my tongue.

Yuri pulls a phone from her pocket and uses it to browse through whatever it is that she browses, I hope that she’ll answer my question, but my hopes are dim- non-existent even. 

My arms wrapped around the wool of her sweater, we curl together under the cover of a grey blanket, the lights off and the windows covered. An uninteresting intermix of a multitude of colours, all working together to form some hint of an image that one would be able to understand, comprehend.

I’m tired, I’ll admit, my body aches and my mind rattles, questions race through my mind and yet, I still don’t have an answer. I see Yuri’s hand shake, and I feel mine’s shake as well. She understands me, and pulls out another smoke from her pocket, crumpled and tearing at its seems; I nevertheless still take it, twirling it within my hand as I raise it to my lips. After igniting it, I feel the smoke breeze through my lungs, clouding it black, swirling within and escaping with an exhale.

I feel nothing. 

We share it until it reaches its base, to which we promptly pull another and repeat the process once more; her wings neighbouring my frail form as we continue a process that we had once done so many times before, a remnant of a time where nothing truly mattered and everything seemed within our reach, when the Abyss stood idly by. 

Now, I wonder if the Abyss was always there, just out of sight and out of mind, a wilt in a flower, the pungent reek of rot upon dying fruit, the hollow innards of a tree’s trunk. 

The movie ends, and we lay there, arms intertwined, a never-ending dance in which no one bothers to make a move as reason leaves and we stay there, the heat of our breaths conjoins into one as I stare into her eyes for the hundredth time. I’m confused, hurt, angry, and a plethora of other forms of emotions I’m unable to transcribe. We lay there, and I relish in the pain coursing through my form as her nails dig within myself. 

The television’s glow, the beacon of a lighthouse within the grips of a storm, only deepens the shadows that surround us, deepening the abyss that crawls upon her face.

The broken knife lies upon the edge of the couch, I pull my arms from hers, timing my movements as my hands reach out and fear takes its hold on me.

It feels like an eternity, one filled with a dull, lifeless, type of pain- like the echoes of footsteps in the depths of a cave. My breaths hitches and sweat pools down my face as I force my lips against hers. Her tongue slams against my lips, an attempt at forcing her way within. I oblige, allowing her that satisfaction, that control.

I stretch,

And stretch. 

And I reach, the tips of my fingers lusting after the cracked and broken remnants of a hilt long over used. I deepen the kiss, our tongues interlacing, dancing to the beat of rhythm-less music that we never knew how well we’d grown to memorise it.

The softest of moans erupts from her between our coalescence, short and painful seconds pass and we slam together once more, a near constant battle for dominance as her teeth brush against the chaffed surface of my lips; her hands tracing my form, searching for the right spots, brushing up my sweater. Her face hot and her breaths hotter, her hands find themselves intertwined with an abyss I was hoping would just wait a little longer. 

Her hands arise from the depths, and I sigh with relief as they clamp themselves upon my hips.

I almost forget about the knife when my hand wraps around its hilt, though I don’t push back, I don’t rise above her- my face shadowed by abyss as red tendrils borrow their way into my cranium and into the soft, fleshy innards of my mind as I raise the knife above my form.

And plunge within her soft, porcelain skin, shattering it into pieces as I just barely miss her neck, the part I needed to hit the most.

Instead it merely punchers her shoulder as thick crimson splatters upon her face and an agonizing scream erupts from her bloodied lips, its rhythm bears a striking resemblance to the very same moans at one point sounded like rewards for a service well-done.

And I find myself within the Red once more. 

But that would imply that I really did it.

Instead, I pocket it, hiding it within the depths of the couch. 

Yuri gazes upon me as we pull back for the last time, her face is one of disappointment at the notion of our last kiss. 

“I-I love you.” Her voice shakes with a certain fear I can empathize with, standing upon the precipices of infatuation and love, real love, the love that comes with uncertainty; one that aches like thunder. It’s a love that’s genuine, a love that pure, and a love she doesn’t deserve.

“I know.” I respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, also, I got fanart, and I'm kinda freaking out because of that, I'm simply ecstatic that people would enjoy this enough to draw fanart, heck, F A N A R T.
> 
> https://aminoapps.com/c/ddlc/page/blog/cloud-9-fanart/aVEv_zKMc0ue1KWGDe5QWd6w8GB1Qaowrp5
> 
> https://aminoapps.com/c/ddlc/page/blog/cloud-9-fanart/8Beg_QNZTmunM3bzq02z5a36dd6Qded5VRY
> 
> If any of you reader have an amino account, please, by all means, give it a like and give them a follow!


	12. Giants Adorned with Jewelry of Luminescence.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years earlier...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, its been a hot minute since I've updated. That being said, I do hope you enjoy, and if you have any criticisms, please do be sure to comment below!

Chapter 12  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
3:51 A.M. Two years ago…  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nuggets of truth  
Small, inconsequential.  
Nuggets of truth

Can  
Make  
All  
The  
Difference.

The pen hovered over the surface of the paper, taunting her as annoyance took its place. Pages upon pages, crumpled and wasted, scattered upon the mahogany floor- splotches of ink splattered upon their white surface, their colours reminiscent to that of blood; perhaps it was. Situated upon the very end of her house’s hall, her room resembled a modern art piece than an actual room- a misshapen mess of strewn colours; splashed at random with determination only a madman could create. Her textbooks lay their backs upon the wood of her desk, their innards open, displaying their gore to the world beyond, a world uncaring and unfeeling- a world devoid of emotions; smothered in black smog. 

There were many things that had raced through the precipices of her mind, reverberating, screaming to be heard- a hopeless effort. “Just one more poem, just one more, just one more.” A chant, one meant to reignite the dead and decomposed remnants of energy still left within her expired form. Her eyes, swollen, dark circles staining the white canvas of her face. 

Picking up the pen once more, she stared at the white of her paper before continuing, fear plastered upon her fear- the fear of those things that posed no mortal threat, one that simply hovered, staring down at its prey; the drippings of lust falling upon its next meal- and continued to write.

Cogs.

A single word. Nothing else.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
4:01 A.M. Two years later…  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Things simply didn’t sit right, and perhaps it was stupidity, one embedded in a fearful kind of hope; one accompanying the hope that those close to you (or in this case, used to be) were innocent; devoid of the judgements soon to be passed their way. 

The apartment, a place that the two had once shared, relishing in their comradery; the apartment, where things started- the roots to a tree that stood upon the precipices of death, withered- and the apartment, where things will end.  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
5:50 A.M. Two years earlier…  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
“Do you have your stuff packed?”  
“Yeah, its all ready.”  
“Are the others really okay with this?”  
“Yeah, Natsuki is annoyed, but then again she always is.”  
“What about Yuri?”  
“She’s fine, don’t worry.”

The road had been long that night, stretching infinitely, its destination unknown- its objectives even more so. Sayori’s house had been the first stop, her parent’s house, a small and uncaring thing- devoid of any life in the beginnings of a new day. There had been days where, in order to escape the solitude that had come with her mother’s home, Monika would crawl out from the small and hidden window of the green house and make a sprint for her the sanctity of her other’s house.

Before the future came, with a disastrous escape from the clutches of an abyss, the sunlight pouring on her face, and the rainclouds casted; before the future came with the truth, one hidden under lies and rushed explanations, flushed faces and closed doors; sneak-ins and hiding under the covers provided by the beds- before the future came, things had been peaceful, smiles controlled their faces as laughs erupt from within; when the three had leaned against each other for support. 

Sayori’s house sat at the edge of the neighbourhood, a forgotten snippet of a time long gone, one where its owners were unforgiving, unable to understand and empathize. A time where the simplest of mistakes could lead to dire consequences. Sayori sat on the rotting wood of the door steps, her hands pressed against her face, her freckles a constellation and her eyes the comets, lighting an abyss of black and death. Space. 

She’d said it many times, and she’d say it again- she loved her, more than anything in the moment. 

The white of her eyes were stained red as Monika exited the car, running over to take her in her arms, hold her and keep her close. Stroke her hair, sob along with her as fear took its grips- the very same fear that simply took hold, hovering and watching. 

The Abyss.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
5:25 A.M Two years later…  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
The apartment complex was surprisingly large, located upon the edge of the city, there it stood, cramped up next to two other buildings. Its windows cracked, and its walls tearing, cracked and dying- a shell of its former self.

Her breaths chilled in the early morning, one hand gripped tightened upon the iron of her flashlight, her other merely hovered over her firearm. 

Her footsteps 

Echo

In the nothingness within.

The Abyssal spores hang in the black. Its soldiers gaze from afar, sharpening their weapons of void.

Empty, each floor, empty;

With the worrying stench of a rot far surpassing anything she’d grown used to.

Footsteps echo in the nothingness.

Footsteps she’d found impossible to differentiate between her own, or something else.

The train, off in that distant world outside, screams.  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
6:01 A.M Two years earlier…  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Her eyes closed from the horrors of the world around her, her breathing stilled and soft, her cheeks reddened and her nose even more so; Sayori slept in the passenger side of the vehicle, her earbuds still stuck within her ear, devoid of any worries for the remainder of her rest.

The houses, ones that conjoined into one, plain, dull, and lifeless; soon change shape, substance, colour. Their forms grew elongated, towering over the two like restless gods, swaying rhythmically in the Autumn breeze, their leaves taking flight into nothingness.

There had been a time, earlier than this, where the four had ridden their bikes to the edge of town where the forests lie and the city watches, there had been a time where they’d imagine their futures. Something glazed by a thick fog that only made it seem unobtainable- a needle in a haystack of possibilities, each growing worse as time went on.

“I think I’d like to study in Italy.” Yuri had once said, her hands clasped upon the thick cover of her tome; her face had shown a determination unlike her, a fire soared within, chewing anything that dare stood in its path.

She never did study in Italy.

And so, it went on, each of the party declaring their ambitions, and each attempt to gain those ambitions only faltering and crashing; forgotten and left in the dirt, their wreckage still burning, the embers scattering into the distant and hopeless sky.

The city had been that beacon of hope, a false prophet that merely promised security and never gave that security. 

Monika found humour within her destination, for how distant it once appeared, and oasis neither had hoped to reach; except, here it was, growing closer and closer which each mile.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
5:40 A.M. Two years later…  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Her gun drawn.

Her breath hitched.

Her eyes darting left to right.

Abandoned.

Empty.

All except for a light at the end of a hallway. A beacon of hope in darkness, one rooted in hope, one that masked its true intentions with false promises.

A mirage. 

The Abyss raised its weapons to the proverbial sky, or lack of one. 

Monika sprints to the door.

Up?

Down?

Left?

Right? 

The door is a mirage.  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
7:02 A.M. Two years earlier…  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Giants adorned with jewellery of luminance stand before their car, a car shrouded within a sea of steel, motor, and the chill bight of autumn. Today was Monday, the start of a new week and the screeching and bellowing of cars were disorienting to say the very least.

Sayori awoke, her eyes blinking away the remnants of sleep off her face, the weak smile only enunciating that weariness and reverting her back to that place between two worlds all over again. 

Their hands intertwined, Sayori rested her head against Monika’s shoulder “Do you wanna go to bed? I…can drive if you want.” Shaking her head, Monika smiled her best smile, one she prayed would radiate hope, security, love “We both know that you don’t even have a license, I’d prefer not to get a ticket.” 

There are two seas, two separate factions that inhabit this labyrinthian, warring against each other over petty little things. The first faction is that of cloth and flesh, they move with purpose, their faces sweaty, their hands full, their eyes glazed over, their faces left jaded by the passages of time. The second faction is that of machinery, one that infiltrates the first, you can see it, in their hands, resting upon their ears; the factions comes in many different forms, from large and intimidating to small and cunning, they are everywhere. It is a losing battle for the first faction. 

5:50 A.M. Two years later…  
Her eyes wide, glancing left to right.

Her face illuminated by the light.

The door opens.

A figure stands upon the edge. 

She is small, frail, her hair hangs to her chest.

Monika’s breathing calms. 

The shadow’s footsteps echo, trailing behind her. 

“Nat?” 

The Abyss raises its weapons to the sky.  
And the world turns black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've sorta been going through a bit of a writing block, so its been a bit hard to finish these newer chapters. But I'm going to finish, I promise.


	13. A World with a Red Sun

Chapter 13  
Sweat rests in beads upon the smooth surface of my face. My eyes, wide and bloodshot, dart left and right. I am afraid, and I don’t know why. The couch I sit upon is one of leather, a decaying leather that stinks, reeks of rot and decay, yet it still retains come semblance of its prior life, a distant memory, planted firmly in the nothingness of the mind. I shudder.

The room I inhabit is cold, one that’s bite is chilling, a chill that slinks its disgusting form upon the cold surface of the concrete like a broken god, hanging upon the tearing walls, plastered upon the ceiling. The cold, patient and collected, awaits my return into its frosty and strangely comforting grip. 

At the end of the hallway is a door.

One of aged wood and, like that of the couch, stinks a rotten stench. My lip quivers.

My breathing is laboured and soon I stand, my hands slink their way within the rotten stench of a forgotten kind of leather.

My hands, gnarled and bleeding, graze upon something organic, my breath hitches. 

My hands wrap around the broken hilt and I try to expunge the feeling of cloth, a sweater that feels too familiar, I try to forget the hair within. 

I’m tired, both emotionally and physically, my body slumps, a sigh leaves my throat, my arms sting underneath the cover of bandages. My body contains a weight I have long forgotten.

Behind the veil of wood, screams emit, hoarse and dry, ones of desperation, a certain primal instinct embedded within the deepest roots of our minds.

One embedded within the deepest roots of your mind as well. 

Within this grey nothingness, I am alone.

I pull the knife out.

The knife, tinged pink upon its equally grey surface, feels heavy within my hands. I don’t feel the Abyss’ presence around me, like a hunter giving up upon its prey, it resides within the cover of wood, within the hoarse and pained screeching of whomever resides within that room. 

I feel the Abyss’ mist rise from the concrete, as though sensing my loneliness, its pitying presence providing some form of comfort. The time is now 6:20. How do I know this?  
Do you know this?

Where is Yuri?

Time passes in short, consecutive bursts, and I am left behind in the dirt, without purpose, without hope. The knife tightens within my hands and its pink slinks its way towards my arm, the pink sludge burrowing its way within my veins.

I practice within these bursts, the knife slashing left and right, a blur in the air. My stance widens, my eyes alert, and my grip tightening.

There is ticking within these grey walls, it is faint, distant and obscured, its source unknown. 

I feel the Red’s glow upon my back, its mist shifting, changing its form into one of tendrils, red and glinting within the televisions glow.

I feel its trek growing closer and closer, its gaze striking daggers into my skin. I allow it closer, beckoning it with closed eyes. 

I feel the Red latch onto my body. 

The anger calms me, the crash of waves against jagged rock, the distant collapsing of a building, close enough within earshot, yet far enough to feel its rumbles. 

There are no other doors, nothing to rely on, no semblance of escape, no hope. 

But there is a door.

The tendrils lodge themselves within my cranium. 

I feel its strength flow throughout my veins.

I step forth.

One step at a time. 

Time jumps in short, consecutive bursts.

I gently open the door.

The World with a Red Sun twinkles in the backdrop. Out of sight, yet still firmly placed upon my mind, a sticker, a memento. I don’t think this sentence matters anymore. 

I step within this void and I see it.

A pair of long protruding legs, stained crimson in the void.  
I see an arm.  
I see blood.   
I see green eyes blinking at me, fear consuming.

Memories flood my mind, snippets, flashing, gun shots in rapid succession and things I had once promise myself I’d never forget. It doesn’t make sense, I know this doesn’t make sense, but I can feel them, I can taste them, I can smell them.

I see her, I see her smile, I feel her lips pressed against mine’s, I feel hatred and I feel love. 

And then I snap back, and I see Abyss, deep and known, I see purple step outside, swaying with motion, lavender eyes that pierce one’s skull. The Red’s tendrils rise, swaying like a snake preparing a defensive attack, my grip upon the knife tightens as I stand my ground. 

“What are you doing here?” Her voice soft, her eyes warm and inviting. Her hands bloody and her wings long gone. 

“What are you doing?” The words flutter out of my mouth, lips chapped, cracked, and bleeding. I use my mouth, one that was once forced in a vow of silence I never intended on breaking.

“I…I am making things better.” She smiles, I feel nothing. 

Yet, perhaps I do still feel something. I feel the Red, - it’s warm- a myriad of blending feelings and emotions varying wildly in complexity, consuming, churning within a broken vessel. The Red is comforting, like a sweater that covers a pale form, warming a cold heart. 

“Love, please, leave.” Yuri smiles, she knows my choice before I even make it, like a play rehearsed for a lifetime. The Abyss is cold, an empty house, and like that empty house, its lonely. If one were to search hard enough, learn the innards of the house, I’m sure they’d be able to find some semblance of comfort within its decrepit walls; a solitude veiled by a mass of cobwebs. Though I feel no comfort within its grasp. 

Her knife is tainted a deep crimson, one that snakes its way to her sweater, its march determined. 

“Leave her alone.” I feel no fear, I no longer care for this beast before me, a sheep in a wolf’s cloth. 

“I’m sorry, but you and I both know that is impossible.” She steps forth.

 

Thump

Thump

Thump

“Leave her alone.”  
Groans, small and low, tired and pained, her green gems glinting, a stark contrast to the crimson splattered upon the remnants of her once beautiful face. 

The porcelain of her hand cups my chin, raising it to reach her own.

“You know, this is the first time…” Her voice shakes with an uncertainty unprecedented, but no longer surprising “The first time that?” I don’t recognize my voice. Its hoarse, one left jaded by a millennium of horrors and fear. Its deeper, like an ocean, its bottom unknown and unexplored. My voice is an ocean, an ocean that I do not belong to. 

Her voice shudders, I shudder along with it “The first I’ve snuffed out a female.” She sighs. “I don’t know why I do this anymore.” The silence is thick, the Abyss retreats to the sand.

“I started off determined, ready to conquer a world that had already taken so much of me, of the things that became me… It doesn’t make sense anymore.” There’s a clatter upon the concrete, a crimson glint in the black. “My teacher had so much faith in me.” Yuri smiles a bitter smile, one that radiates acceptance of a coming end, tears brim the rims of her eyes.

“Yet, here I am, a fucking year afterwards, killing against my code, my rules.” I hear a chuckle, one that I can no longer differentiate as her own or the Abyss’s. “Oh, what vile thoughts the order must have of me.” She chuckles, its bleak and tired. 

The groans rise in volume.

“The order?”

Her expression closes and her heart with it.

Her hands are bloodied, belonging to both her and the green-eyed survivor still clinging to the precipices of life and death, a vain battle against unforeseeable foes.

“Who are you?” The Red asks.  
“I no longer know.” The Abyss replies.

“Let her go.” The tendrils glow in the nothingness. “No…” The spores- white dots upon a black canvas- hiss.

The beat of the green-eyed princess fluctuates, her breathing stills.

I charge.

MyclawsdiggingintoYuri’sshoulder,bloodsplurtingandconcealingmyfacefromtheAbyss’sgaze.

Her tendrils sharpen,

P  
L  
U  
N  
G  
I  
N  
G

Towards the Red mountains upon my back.

My eyes   
Turn  
Black.

And I scream. 

My Tendrils push, and she crashes into the grey walls with a clatter.

From the Abyss, its eyes flutter open, white crescents splashed with lack. White pearls emerge, creasing into a grin, teeth sharpened, stained yellow, red, black, grinning. 

The World with a Red Sun burns through the walls, smoke arising as the concrete gives way and the black sand floods in, the Red sky snaking its way through the jutting cracks of dusty concrete.

The Abyss leads a valiant charge, and soon we spar, sparks erupting as blades clash upon each other and steel rings throughout the opposing worlds of grey and red.

The Red flows through me veins, pouring out of the pores upon my paled skin, my hands clench upon the broken hilt as it grinds into dust and soars into that distant reddened sky. 

Creatures dance in the sky as we clash, their hues vary between two colours: red or black as they tear into each other’s throats and the remnants of grey shake with instability, the chances of caving an ever-encroaching reality. 

Her teeth b u r r o w into my arm; we are reduced to animals, our fur stained crimson, our brows furrowing, our claws scratching, our teeth broken and cracked with the pressure as we roll upon each down an unforgiving Abyss. 

The room sways left and right as black sand soars into the air and white pearls convulse into snarls.

The Abyss trudges forth, pushing   
Back  
The  
Red.

Blood 

 

Splatters 

Upon the walls

As my hand grips

Upon 

The blade of the knife,   
High   
Sinking d e e p within my palm as I raise my arm

Above the sky, The Abyss, The Cosmos, all meaningless.

 

And I plunge. 

And The Floor  
Gives 

Way

And the metallic bite of my lips against hers

Are

Overpowered 

By a rushing

And  
Sweeping

Abyss.


	14. I still see you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A space between spaces, eyes between eyes, fuck, what's the point anymore?

Chapter 14 

I see you,  
You know that, right?  
The lights are blinding,  
Tearing at the very essence of my being, but I   
Still see you.  
The music screams, my eardrums combusting and pain erupting.   
But I still hear you.   
Seas of flesh and clothe swarm me, drowning me in perverse touches  
And sensations, my body melting for you.  
But I still feel you. 

You cry and cry, your tears   
Consumed by your tongue,  
Salty like the ocean.  
Your eyes, blue and bold,   
A beautiful dance between  
The sky and its cosmos,  
Distant and far away,  
I need you.

My hips sway, I lead the way,   
I grab your hand, all according to a plan set  
Within a stone long forgotten. People dance  
In seas, crowding amongst each other, conjoining   
Into one. The separate factions spar, and I’ve long since  
Stopped caring,  
I have you. 

We leave at dawn, the final stages upon.  
Concrete giants dance in the sunrise, their night gone  
We are once. I carry you in my arms, my raccoon   
Placed firmly upon my wrist. We’ve come so far.   
I see you. 

I tie the rope.  
You choke.  
Your breath lost.   
Dead and gone.   
Your thighs look delicious. 

I still see you.


	15. Eggs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natsuki wakes up, and everything is okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! the penultimate chapter! I really can't believe it, when I started this thing I thought I would just write a couple chapters and be done with it. I have been fantasizing of this end, how I'm going to conclude this weird tale, and I promise you- whoever's still left- that I'll finish.

Chapter 15  
I wake up, and I’m happy. 

My head feels funny, but I’m okay. 

The sun shines down on my room, and fuck, I can’t help but smile. I pull out my phone from my pocket, and I take a peak. The group chat is active as usual, Sayori, Monika…Yu-Yuri, they’re doing fine, talking about something or the other, it doesn’t matter. 

My room is large, the walls are plastered with pink wallpaper, roses painted over white. Its beautiful, my room’s clean, its my room. My room.

Today is Friday, May 22nd, 2019 as my phone reports. I type a quick “Good Morning!” And everyone stops typing before typing again “GOOD MORNING” They reply all together, and I can’t help but grin. 

I pull on my uniform, tying the bow around my undershirt and grabbing my bag, I open the door- letting the cool breeze rush through my form, I am safe. I pull my hoodie around me as I step downstairs. My dad’s asleep, his hand wrapped firmly upon the T.V. remote, I sigh, allowing him the pleasure of taking a nap. 

I make my way towards the kitchen, opening the fridge and grabbing two eggs. I start cooking, and as I cook, the phone rings. 

Its Yuri. 

My face heats up. 

“What’s up?” I ask.

Silence. Deep and old.

“Yuri?” 

The line goes dead. 

Weird.

But I still continue my cooking, I’ve made scrambled eggs!

The eggs pop, and the fluid inside spills to the world waiting.

I take the first bite and it’s the best bite I’ve ever had; the flavours explode in my mouth as they work their magic and love overtakes my form. Butterflies dance, soaring through the air and into the sky and beyond and I’m safe, I’m okay. 

I leave, the door creaking ever-so-slightly behind me. 

I receive another call.

This time it’s Sayori. 

It’s more silence, I’m sure they just butt-dialed me or something.

I hang up, sure that they’ll call again.

The world rumbles with each and every step I take. 

I make it to the school, its big, its length so high I’m sure it scrapes the sky above me. My phone rings, but I guess I didn’t feel it. I skip my way in.

The school is empty, I guess I’m just early. I pull out my phone and I send a message to the group chat. “Where the heck are you guys???” They type together, like a pack of wolves hunting, their prey so close.

“Were in the club dummy!!! :D” Sayori texts, I can’t help but chuckle, but I make my way towards the club room. My footsteps echo in the nothingness, I can’t help but feel a chill run through my form as I clutch my backpack tighter. 

The hallways are empty, a darkness hangs at the edges like mold, clinging to the ceilings. 

Where is everyone?  
It doesn’t really matter, I’m sure they’re somewhere in this maze. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure of it.

The bell above rings, it’s a scream I’m used to at this point, the absence of footsteps is not a noise I’m used to. 

This is weird.  
But the sun’s still shining, the birds sing in the distance, I feel a smile tug at my lips, but I don’t want to smile. I make my way towards the clubroom; my uniform feels heavy? I dunno…

The clubroom’s door is wide open, the darkness leaks from its innards, spilling out like water as its spreads its vile river into the bleached floors underneath. 

I take small steps, my eyes open, my breathing okay. I’m okay, I’m okay. My arms, tan, don’t have bruises, their wrists are not stained purple. My eyes are not bloodshot. I’m happy. 

My phone rings. 

What the fuck is going on? I dig my hands into my pocket, and I pull out the pink case out. My phone rings, its Monika. 

I press the call button. “Okay, what the fuck is going on, Moni?!” It comes out a little harder than what I wanted it to sound, and I do feel bad, but I need to know what’s going on. 

I hear nothing.

Except, maybe I do.

It’s breathing. 

That’s what it is.

Heavy breathes that I can feel grazing on my neck, my hairs standing straight. 

“You need to tell me what’s going on!” I press forth. 

There’s a hitch, a hiccup, and the line goes dead.

The darkness is closer. Its whispering. I think if I try hard enough, I can hear what its saying.

“W-wh-“The words I could say, the words I may form. The words I can try. The words.

The words.  
Words.

What is a word? A string of letters that come together and make some semblance of speech. A shot in the dark that somehow makes its mark, an impossible feat. Words. Words don’t make much sense, do they? How are you able to read this?

“wE…”

They use my voice. 

Words.

“aRe…” 

What are words?

“The.  
.  
.  
.”

ABYSS 

THE WORLD RUMBLES BENEATH MY STEPS  
.  
.

.  
.

.

 

.  
.

.

.

 

 

I wake up.

And I’m in the cafeteria.  
Its big! There’s so many tables, its like a maze, I sigh, and I open my lunch box. 

My food manifests itself before me, breathing and sighing, moaning and groaning. 

It’s eggs, I’ve packed eggs for lunch. 

There’s a knocking at the cafeteria doors, and I know who it is, and my heart flutters and leaps and my breathing stills for the smallest of moment.

Her skin a white canvas, her eyes a lavender that plants itself in your mind, her lips plump and her hair a purple forest. She sits before me, her eyes killing me, my butterflies soaring through the air, fuck, she’s beautiful, even with her gnarled and battered hands. 

Her hands, bruised purple, hover above mine’s. My hair grows elongating its locks and touching my back. 

We stare at each other for what seems to be a millennia, silent and tense, our eyes meeting, pink and lavender meshing into one. Her breathing stilled, her nose a bridge, her hair a jungle, her eyes a universe. I’m nothing compared to her, and I accept this, I live with this. My hand shakes, and I don’t know why.

The silence is loud, a cacophony of nothingness, a world without purpose. Its weird, I know, but bear with me. Please, I need you.

You. 

Who are you?

What is this place?

Shrouded by a veil, you simply observe, diligent in your quest, what is your qu-

“Look at me.” The eggs whisper and I oblige, my eyes staring into those lavender universe, safety, and I can’t help but fall for them with each minute. Today is March 19th, 2019. 

Her hands wrap around mine, her thumb stroking my hand, her breathing is stilled, her eyes are alert. The birds still tweet, the sun still shines, happiness burns within me. It hurts. 

Why does it hurt so much?

My body shakes, pain courses through my form like an earth quake with each brush of skin, each loving look. 

I blink, and she understand what I mean, she has to.

I blink. 

And I’m in the clubroom. 

It’s the afternoon now, the red sun burns brilliantly as I sit along on a desk, my hand gripping a blank piece of paper. The chalkboard is painted white with scribbles, in the middle it says. 

“THE LAST DAY!!! WE’LL MISS U!!” There’s confetti on the floor. Today is June 28th, 2020, today is my last day as a senior in high school. I sigh. The plate of eggs is cold, rotten, a fragment of a time long gone and dead. 

The room is bathed in a warm orange. Today is my last day as a senior in high school.

The Abyss is closer now, its tendrils snaking and slithering past the chairs, its mist enshrouding all it passes by. 

The Red manifests itself from the chalk board, it spreads its veins across the walls, the ceilings. The ceiling is red, and the floor is black.

But the room is still bathed in a warm and inviting glow. 

“Who are you?” The Abyss whispers.  
“I am the Red.” The Red states, its tendrils sharpening into arrows. 

The eggs open their eyes, and they stare at me, and I can’t help but stare back into its clouded eyes. My pink hair has streaks of black in it now. Heh. 

“You have two questions.

Ask away.” 

“Why?”

The eggs open their mouths. 

Monika enters the room.  
Her hair brown, her eyes green and wonderful gems. She smiles. 

Sayori pushes past, her eyes an ocean, her hair coral and that bow plucked upon her short hair. She beams. 

They open their mouths.

There’s ringing again.

Its from my phone, or at the very least I think its from my phone. I pull it out of my coat pocket, it’s from Monika and Sayori. I answer the call.

And I raise the phone to my ears. 

There’s breathing, strained breathing, fearful whimpers as blood seeps from its dying form. I hear a gasp, pained breaths struggling against death, an uphill battle- a losing battle. The world rumbles beneath my feet, and I resist the urge to scream. 

I hear a train, I hear sirens, the yelling of rain, the crashes of thunder. The phones speaker screams into my ear sweet nothings and my grip tightens around its plastic frame. 

Monika and Sayori smile at me, I struggle to form words.

They

Sink

And I resist the urge to sob. 

And soon I feel the cold and unforgiving bite of Abyss. And then I feel the white heat of Red. 

And the World spins and swirls.

And I can’t differentiate between the spinning or the swirling. 

And I’m home again, and the moon’s glow blankets my room. 

The wall paper’s torn, books lay strewn upon the floor, ripped. My lamp lays in a heap of its own glacial gore.

The eggs rest upon the covers of my bed.

Its barely there, a mass of rotten death, the eyes closed and the mouths with it.  
There’s a spoon in my hands, and I know what to do. 

My door swings open, and He walks in.

His eyes glow red, his body enshrouded with an Abyss I could never understand, and Abyss older than time itself, and Abyss older than Yuri’s Abyss. His hands clutch a belt, tightening with anger. But he doesn’t advance, her doesn’t enter, he simply stands- a guardian, a captor, relishing in his captured prey’s company. 

I raise the eggs to my nose, I am overpowered by its scent, a disgusting musk that controls my nose. It reeks of death. I relish in it. 

My hands shake uncontrollably, a smile spreads across my face. 

I close my eyes. 

And the world goes black as blood lust consumes my essence, and ripping and tearing becomes my one true goal, my calling. 

I awake in the bathroom, crimson cakes the walls like paint. 

My hands left sticky with gore.

There is a corpse in the tub. 

I can’t help but smile. 

I can’t help but chuckle. 

I can’t help but laugh as blood splatters upon my face. 

The remnants of eggs lay strewn upon the blood-soaked floor, its form now stained red. 

It looks delicious. 

I crawl towards it, my porcelain skin stained red, my long hair a jungle, my nose a bridge. 

I raise the rot to my face. 

And I take a bite. 

The

World 

Shifts 

Around 

Me

I wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone's still reading this fic, but I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.


	16. Cloud 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find ourselves at the end.
> 
> Are you afraid?
> 
> It's going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, the final stretch.

Chapter 16

Cloud 9

noun Informal.  
1\. a state of perfect happiness (usually in the phrase on cloud nine).   
Are you scared?

It’s okay, I promise you it’s going to be okay. 

I wake up. 

The stench of ash hanging in the air, falling to ground like snow. The heat burns my skin, though I am relatively unharmed. My lungs on the other hand are enshrouded in flame and I feel coughs rise up my throat, ugly and painful coughs that rocks my throat to its very core. Pain reverberates throughout my body. 

My head bleeds, though I no longer care for it. 

Flashing lights surround the remnants of my home, flashing various colours too quick for my plebeian mind to understand. 

I take a moment to catch my breath, my coughs dying out.

I hear footsteps encroaching, yelling sounding like war horns as people search for me. 

People, different faces varying in complexity and shape, their hands gnarled or smooth, their eyes blue or brown. People, different people. I can’t help but feel a smile spread across my lips. 

I stand amidst rubble, 

The remnants of the leather couch lie strewn next to me, and from within I see it. 

There are concrete giants that kneel behind me, their jewellery of luminance glinting in the cosmos.  
Within the leather I see and eyes, glazed over, dead, rotting-stench.  
Within the leather I see hair, coral and bedraggled.  
Within the leather I see flesh, rotten.  
Within the  
Leather  
I see  
Sayori. 

I stifle a scream. 

The air is cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the fires that burn around me, of the rubble still infused with some remnant of life. 

There are concrete giants above me, their eyes shifting into ones of worry, their lights turn off and I am left alone. 

Except, I’m not. 

The Red slinks its way out of the leather, out of the flesh, and into my form once more- reigniting the flame within; it sputters and coughs and as weak as it is, its still alive. 

I find the knife buried under debris, its dented and the handle is completely off, but I still take it. 

Now, what exactly are we going to do with this? 

The story, this thing you’ve been reading for a millennia at this point, where are we going?

I trudge forth, the sirens distant memories placed in the back of my mind. 

I see her, the Abyss pooling out of her form, a puddle of eyes and tendrils dancing in the air around her. It’s beautiful in an obscene way. 

I think she’s dead. 

Then I hear the sounds of rushing footstep behind me. 

And I see her, her hand clutching a rock, her eyes glaring daggers into my throat. 

And I feel the rock slam upon my head

As Red splatters upon her face.

Pain courses through my form as I crash to the floor. 

“I LOVED YOU, AND THIS HOW YOU REPAY ME?” Her voice screams itself hoarse and tendrils erupt from her form, writhing in the air.

The sky opens its eyes.

And I’m surrounded. 

Red leaks from my wounds and I stumble onto my feet, my legs wobbling, my head a beating drum of pain and regret. 

She hesitates.

“I tried…fuck…I attempted to teach you, to take my place in the machine.” My knife glints in the nothingness as the red glow emits from the tendrils I own. “I was hoping it would not have to come to this.” Her voice shudders. “Natsuki, I’-“

Ichargeforthslicingleftandright,Abyssuponmyface.

“Fuck you!” I mumble, red and hot strands embedded within my cranium “FUCK YOU.” There are no other words, no other letters, nothing else that can describe the feelings coursing within through my heart. 

Anger flows within my form and hatred burns with it. 

She sighs, tears running down her porcelain canvas, her hands stained Red. 

“Fine, so be it. I suppose this cycle has no ending, after all, we are simply cogs in a machine.” 

We charge, and the World with a Red Sun glows within the debris. 

We crash upon the remnants of our home, the place we shared moments few get, the place where I stared into her eyes once and I realized that I loved her, and I still do; I am but a withered tree, clinging to the last vestiges of life. And as we crash upon the remnants of our home, debris soaring into the eyes around

We fall into 

A world. 

Puddles of Red dot this wasteland, the dirt cracked and broken, the Red sun glinting in the nothingness of a red Abyss acting as a backdrop. 

The sun is so close one could reach out and touch it, the heat soaring their flesh, tearing at the hems of their clothing, leaving nothing in its track. Forgotten and dead. 

The air is crisp, a stark contrast to the world outside of ash and smog, I can breathe here. I’m at home within this wasteland, I can’t help but smile at that fact.

The Red sun smiles at me, and I smile at him. 

And as the last remnants of my sanity shatters, I can’t help but grin. 

Yuri lays on the ground, her breathing strained, her eyes alert and afraid as sweat rests in beads upon her canvas. Her hands grip the rock, tearing her skin in the process. Wheezing and sputtering, the Abyssal tendrils seep within her form, an effort in keeping her alive. 

The 

Sun

Wobbles 

And a hand protrudes outwards from its Red form.

The hand is old, brittle, gnarled, long finger nails resembling talons than anything else. 

tOdAy iS aMoMEnToUs daY.

I think I understand now. 

I’m not sure. 

Staggering  
……………………Forth  
…………………………..Yuri  
………………………………………………..Lunges at me. 

I feel pain erupt within my form, though I am no longer weak. 

The Flips.  
/ World

And the concrete giants awaken once more as we stumble out of the rubble. My teeth sink into her arm as warm Abyss floods my senses and pleasure courses through my form as I 

Pull

A 

Chunk 

Out

Revelling in the ripping and tearing. 

Screams soar into the night sky as fear takes its hold on her. 

The city is a labyrinth. 

I blink. 

And I find myself in a new area. 

Yuri staggers forth, finding safety in the Sewer’s Abyss, its eyes staring down as its soldiers rise from within the inky black beneath my feet. 

I’m at my limit, I think, the fear and the anger mixing into one, churning within and erupting from my cranium in a flood of glowing Red. 

The sewer wraps its form around mine’s its bricks intermixed with black, its white eyes glowing in the nothingness as tendrils slink within the water. 

But the Red allows me to see, shrouded under a veil of Red glow, I can see her, Yuri. Her hands hold no weapons, her eyes- thousands of them- blinking with an anger unprecedented. Jesus, there’s so many eyes. 

They litter her form like tattoos, blinking and creasing, their pupil-less forms blink in excitement, in lust as white tears well in their eyes and drip down her black form. 

We speak no words, suspended in silence as the Abyss’s spores rain from above like snow, and the Red enshrouds us within its warm glow.

“We are cogs, you are aware of that?” Yuri asks through the Abyss.

I nod, we are cogs in a machine of disparity and hopelessness, one that’s been spinning since the beginning of time and even beyond the end. A cycle never ending, moving in circular motions, its goal unknown. 

The cycle is simple, find someone to take your place, complete the goal. 

What is the goal?

To kill for a Red Sun? 

To be driven to the brink of insanity and past that?

It no longer matters to me anymore.

Why should it matter to you?

We stare at each other, her nose a bridge, her hair a forest, her eyes a constellation. I love her, I hate her, I want to kill her, I want to consume her flesh, I want to cook her.

I want

I want

I want

I want

I want

I want 

Want.

What is a want? Things you desire, the feeling of skin pressed against yours as you converge under the blanket of darkness, a car that you’ve been saving for. Wants have ceased to exist and needs have died. All except one.

I need her.

I charge, and she charges. 

And soon we are reduced to broken nails against skin, tearing deep within and implanting itself like arrows, cracked teeth tearing into cheeks and blood splattering upon our faces as fists filled with torn strands of hair connect to a face in the nothingness. 

I bite, I tear, I scream into her broken face as I bang my hands upon her face, gore splashing upon my face as I revel within the anger and hatred.

And in my blind anger, I neglect seeing, feeling the rock against my form once more as pain pounds like a drum within my head again. 

Yuri sits on top of my now, her hands wrapping against my neck as air exits my body and I am

Submerged 

Within 

Abyss.

From within the inky sea, I see myself staring up at me. 

My hair is short, I wear my uniform. 

Tears well in my eyes as I feel death encroach upon my form.

Natsuki swims up to me, her hand clutching something metallic.

“Here, take this.” She smiles, a remnant of who I once was, the last bits of myself compiled into one. Tears well in her eyes and as she places the weapon in my hands, our faces grow closer. 

I can almost smell the cupcakes. 

And soon she is lost in the nothingness.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
I SLAM THE METAL AGAINST YURI’S HEAD.

Coughing and sputtering, clawing for life, I rise from the depths, staggering, I plunge myself onto her form.

I

Raise 

The 

Metal

Over my head 

High above the sky

The cosmos

The Red

My Red. 

My Essence. 

 

And I 

P

L

U

N

G

E

And I raise 

And I plunge

And I raise

And I plunge

andIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplungeandIraiseandIplunge

And I raise

And I plunge

And she no longer moves.

And white, searing tears race down my battered form. 

Her face is reduced to pulp, pulp that drifts away into a sea of inky black. 

My breathing strained, my eyes an intermix of lavender, my hair reaching down to my waist. 

My tendrils dancing in the black. 

My name, what is my name?

My shuddering breaths, my broken arm. 

My gnarled hands. 

My porcelain skin.

And somewhere, deep within this concrete maze, I feel the rumbles of my home reforming itself from the ash, the concrete gluing itself into one. 

Time reverts. 

And something clicks, and I understand my purpose, and I accept my purpose. 

I accept. 

My name, one long forgotten and long dead, to be uttered is a sin against The Red Sun. 

My name is Natsuki

And I am the Abyss’s teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we made it here, this far. I can't believe that I'm going to end this after writing this final bit. It's been a wonderful couple of months spent with you all, I've loved writing this thing since the first chapter. 
> 
> Thank you all for commenting, reading, clicking, and crazily, drawing fanart. 
> 
> You've all been great. 
> 
> Now that I'm finished with this thing, I'll resume work on Dungeons and Crippling Social Anxiety, maybe I'll pick up on 12 Months Later. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope to see all soon, and most of all, I hope you enjoyed reading this thing I made up on the fly.


	17. Today is a Red-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [An exception has occurred] 
> 
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .

Today is A Red Day

The rain beats upon my skin as I stare at the giants off in the background. Today is the inauguration of a new giant, a new family member. I can see the lights developing within its concrete shell; soon to be filled. I’m tired. The Redsways behind me like a snake, dancing in the smog-ridden night, casting a red glow behind me.   
The rain beats upon my skin. 

I can sense the Red’swhispering. Sweet nothings that are anything but comforting. I can’t help but smile as the Apartment calls for me, louder than the whispers of that warm glow. The tendrils retract into my back, contempt and full. 

Today is August 18th, 2029. Today is A Red Day. 

I enter the foreboding yet comforting walls of my home. The walls today are a blue-grey. Plopping myself onto the torn surface of the couch, my hand wraps around the plastic of the remote control and I switch the television on.

“Today, another taken by ‘The Teeth’, witnesses report seeing a small figure fleeing the scene of the cri- “I switch the channel. 

The room I rest within is cylindrical, a direct insult to the properties and this complex, when I rap my knuckles upon the walls, a loud dull thud rings throughout and empty abyss beyond these walls; the spores still rest in suspension beyond the door; white specks swimming.

I sigh. I’m okay. 

Today is a Red Day, and so I wait, my eyes gazing upon the manifested window outside. 

Blood sticks to my gnarled hand,                                 the flesh upon my knuckles split open, intermixing with blood that doesn’t belong to me.                                My breathing is staggering, faltering and picking up, a                                                                       desperate clinging to the last semblances of life w                                                                                        ithin my beaten body; blood seeps from a split upon my lip;                           

[ **RE-CALIBRATING]**    

                    my eyes rest in puffs, purple and bruised.                                            .

Thunder screeches, banging like drum                                                                   **.[Error]**                                                      s in the distance, I must remind myself to stay calm: **Today is a Red Day**. 

The rain grows in intensity, a searing                                                      [ **Accessing Database]**

                                                hatred thumping against the glass, it was as though the rain                             could think for itself. I shiver. The television flashes with warm                                                    colours I don’t even bot                                              her to comprehend, if I                                                 attempt to focus, I think I can make out a smiling sun. A sun. 

I don’t remember the last time I met the Sun, and I don’t remember the time before that, I simply felt; a myriad of shifting colours and a searing hatred coursing through me as I traverse the endless Red sea; boiling and melting my skin as I scream                                                          into that tangerine sky.

 

I don’t remember when it spoke to me- was it                                                  **[The eyes stare into me, black dots in a canvas of void]**

 

 

             the second time I blacked out? Perhaps the third- but I do                                                                   remember its voice, the rumbles, the timbre. Its voice                                                           was melancholy as it was vibrant, vibrant as it was dark,                                **[Oh, it’s you]**

 

            angry as it was calm. I don’t remember much from my past now. 

I try, and I try, believe me I do.                      

                                                                                                         **[It’s certainly been a while, huh?]**

Sometimes if I’m lucky, I can see it, a glimpse o

                                   

                                                                [ **Sorry, the words, they’re getting in my way.]**                         f a face, a shape where a face should be. Blue eyes, a stark        

 

 

                                                            contrast to the streaks of red upon a porcelain backdrop, hidden

                                                                                                                                                               [ **There’s been a disturbance, shifting seas and blue moons]**  

                                                                       within the confines of

a couch. I try to remem                       

                                                                                                                          [ **You’ve probably already read about it]**                               ber who those blue

eyes belonged to, and I do get close,                                                    but I am never able to reach it. It’s a terrifying thought, the fact that I can’t even remember how I came to this place nestled beneath concrete giants, don’t yo                                                 u think? Were the walls white before? 

The sigh escapes my mouth before I even realize it, and soon the familiar of pangs sound within my stomach, and soon my min                    [ **Well, anyways, what’s done is done]**                        d finds itself wondering towards the cabinets, taking my form with me. You know, I’ve never actually gone grocery shopping, I can go through the entirety of my stock and by the next d

 

ay, I come home to full cabinets. I pull out some Ramen and a stove, and soon I begin cooking. 

My mind wanders 

**[I think _she_ did this at one point, so I might as well]**

**[                                Hang on, lemme clear some space]**

 

**[You know, I thought you were done here, what's left to talk about?]**

 

And soon I’m sitting at the table, my face stuffed. 

I stare at th      

e clock, it’s stu

ck, frozen. The hands rest at 1

0:30. I keep my eyes at the front door, cold seed gr

owing upon my arm, hair standing in attention. She’s gonna be here soon. I

 can sense it, th

e thickn            ‘

 

                                                                    [ **You are given three questions, those of you still left]**

                                                   [ **Clinging to the precipices of reality, dangling at the foot of something indescribable]**

**[To be uttered is a sin against The Red Sun]**

**[Ask away]**

 

 

ess in the air masked                            by sea-salt as the rain above patters, cast                                  ing a scent of its own. 

The rain screams, the th                      

under screams, and soon lightning joins its ranks. Its louder than anything I’ve ever heard. 

The Red slowly slinks it way o                       

ut my back, the redtendrils burn my skin as’                                                   they escape, curling in the air like snakes; sliding across the ceiling as they attempt to escape from their place locked upon the shackles of my mind. Its whispering                 

 starts soon, sweet nothings into an **Ab**                        

**yss** , I can hear what they whisper- t

he eldritch truths too disgusting to recount, plans and strategies to horrifying to enact- I

 

 try to blot them                                   out. Perhaps they sense my discomfort, and their cruelty deepens. 

My essence com                                  bines their tendrils together, intermixing and shifting within each other. 

And I know what they’re creating even before they do. 

The shape of her hair

The el                                                  egance of her shape 

Thos                                                                                                                            e eyes  
Those fucking eyes. 

You already                                                                             know who it is, don’t you? Tell me

Please   
\--------------                                                      What’s her name? Who is she? 

Her limbs hang lifelessly as she stands, her movements like that of a marionette, as though strings cling to her melting bo                 

 

  1. Her long hair cling



ing to her back, a weight         

I’ll never understand, a weight that I live with. Her jaw hangs open allowing me to see what lies w

ithin. 

Her br                                      east

Acc                  entuate             d by the me                  lting re                                     d. 

Her eyes a                                            gaping black hole. 

I   
Can  
Se       

e her.

You must believe me. 

I   
Lose  
Co

ntrol   
Only                for a second.   
The

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first attempt at a first person narrative


End file.
